On Your Shore
by Shandy
Summary: AU: After 10 years in the quiet of Besaid, Yuna, under the guardianship of Auron, is taken to Zanarkand. The city of Blitzball, the city of lights... the city of her dreams. TxY
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

_This must be the place._

It was almost sunset when Auron finally arrived at _The Evrae_, a dilapidated old Al Bhed inn sleeping deep in the slum district of Bevelle.

Wearily, he re-adjusted the heavy katana strapped to his back, feeling drained from the sheer length of his journey, and still heartsick with grief over everything that had happened. Worst of all, his wound had reopened again during the night and he'd slept little as a result.

Yet every time he thought about stopping to rest, he could hear Braska's voice in his head. _Promise me, Auron. Promise me. _So compelled by the weight of the secrets he carried with him, Auron had pressed on.

Now, finally at his destination, he paused only to give the rundown Inn one doubtful glance before entering, throwing caution to the wind in light of his fatigue.

The first human to exchange words with him in several weeks turned out to be the old Al Bhed woman who kept the Inn. She addressed him 'Sir' and bowed her head just as earnestly as she ushered him inside like a mother reprimanding some wayward child who had spent too long playing in the rain.

All severity melted from her face when she caught sight of his own.

He knew what she was seeing; the fearsome long battle scar marring his face, still cracked and bloody, grave brown eyes all but empty of emotion, and the beginnings of an unkempt beard. He supposed he must look like the recent victim of some common bar brawl. _That, or a beggar._

Nevertheless, the fierce old harridan took only half a moment to recover herself, and had barely finished shutting the door when she rounded on him, admonishing. "Here, what a state you've gotten yourself into! You young men and your fights! Sit yourself down and let me see to that awful wound o' yours."

Auron sighed gratefully. "If you have medicine, I have the coin to pay for it. But first I need to inquire after a woman I was told worked here. Amanecera was her name."

"My Lord-"

"And her daughter, Yuna," he interrupted, firmly. "She would be 7 years old."

"My dear Lord," she told him, "You've come to the right place, but-"

"Where can I find them?" he asked impatiently.

"In the old cemetery," she said, her countenance suffused with compassion, "the first row on the left."

* * *

As it turned out, when he reached the grave site, Auron found he wasn't the only soul seeking out the company of Amanecera that evening.

It was almost impossible to spy her kneeling there in the moonlight, especially with only one good eye, but there she was all the same, a little girl with soft brown hair that curled inwards just past her chin.

A skinny little thing, he observed, wearing a tattered old Al Bhed dress and no sandals. Her bare toes were entangled in the strands of grass and soft earth beneath her feet, but if anything it looked like she might have done so on purpose. _To feel the earth between her toes, _he knew. _Braska sometimes did the same._ He would have smiled, but the memory was only painful to him now.

The little girl had turned to stare at him as he approached Amanecera's tombstone, but if his appearance frightened her at all, she gave no indication. _Perhaps she can't see me._

Her eyes were the most noticeable feature of her pretty little face. One green, he perceived, for the mother, the other blue… _for the father_.

Auron crouched beside her near the grave. "What's your name, child?"

"I'm Yuna," she said softly. It was at that moment Auron noticed a pitiful-looking flower clutched tightly in her tiny fist. _A hibiscus flower,_ he recognised.

"Do you live at the Inn?"

"Yes, Sir. The Evrae, Sir."

"Come then. We'll go back together."

After pondering the offer with all her seven-year-old knowledge, the girl decided that this arrangement suited her. "Yes," she agreed.

Even after everything he'd been through, something in the way the girl carefully arranged her crumpled little flower on the gravestone, as though she had been deliberating over the most perfect position for a long time, pulled at Auron's heartstrings. There was so much of _him_ in her face, and in her movements.

Maybe that was what made him offer her his hand, as they both rose from the ground and Yuna wiped her grubby hands on her dress.

They walked along in silence, which suited Auron perfectly. He was not accustomed to the company of children. Though he supposed he must have been a child himself at one time, he had never felt an affinity for them. Neither did he possess the patience necessary to entertain a childish heart… he had learned as much on the Pilgrimage.

His train of thought was interrupted when Yuna suddenly remarked, "Your hair is long, for a man."

It was so unexpected that at first he felt a swell of outrage that could be traced back to his warrior's pride, which swiftly fled and became shock. But finally, as he realised the absurdity of the words being spoken out of the blue by a girl a third his size, he let loose a burst of laugher, startling even himself.

It was a weak laugh, hoarse even; such a sound hadn't emerged from his lips for what seemed like an Age.

When the laugh died, he admitted, "Yes, I suppose it is, at that."

He felt absurdly grateful to this little girl.

And if he had chanced to look upon his young companion at that moment, he would have seen her smiling for the first time.

* * *

That evening, after Yuna had been put to bed, the elderly old woman sat up with Auron as she tended his aching facial wound, and told him Amanecera's story.

"She died of the fever, Sir," she explained. "Her health was ever delicate. We can only hope her daughter doesn't take after her, poor soul. Oh, don't be such a child," she fussed as he jerked back unintentionally when she dabbed at tender scar tissue.

He grunted in response, and asked, with all the courtesy he could gather, that she continue.

"We urged her to go to her brother, Sir." She lowered her voice and said, "Our Cid - the leader of all the Al Bhed, and always out warring. But he might have been able to take care of her better than us." She shook her head regretfully.

Much to Auron's relief, she removed the blood-soaked cloth from his face for a moment, to dampen it in a bowl of clean water.

"But would she go? Well, they had quarrelled over some matter, and if you ask me, most like her brother would overlook whatever it was after one look at her condition. He's a kind soul, our Cid, under all that gruffness, you can always tell. A bit like you, Sir," she remarked, and smiled knowingly.

Auron raised an eyebrow.

"But she wouldn't go. Whatever it was they'd squabbled over, she'd been wounded too sorely and wouldn't be the first to bridge the gap between them. It's a sad story, Sir."

"There are many sad stories in Spira," he replied. Too many, as far as Auron was concerned. He'd just walked away from one, and now he had walked right into another, it seemed. _They follow me wherever I go._

"Now the child," she continued. "Yuna. There's an even sadder tale. Lost her mother, and now she's lost her father, it would seem, hmm?" Auron regarded her in surprise. He hadn't given the old woman enough credit; apparently she knew far more than she first revealed.

"We don't have enough money to keep her, I'll admit that much. Unless she's taken away from here soon, most like Rin will put her to an Al Bhed orphanage. Oh, don't mistake my meaning, good Sir, most like she'll get a lot o' care, but precious few good meals and even fewer prospects, I fear." She pulled back and looked at Auron meaningfully.

Even as she offered the suggestion, he could hear Braska's voice, pleading. _Promise me. Promise me._

"You'll take her, then," concluded the old woman, detecting the resolve in his face. She nodded firmly, finally lifting the cloth from his face. "There," she said, "I've cleaned it up best I can. That's all can be done for now, but don't you go pawing it any time soon."

"You have my gratitude," he said sincerely. The wound did feel a lot better, a mild sting replacing the relentless throbbing of yesterday.

"One more thing, Sir," she said tentatively, "If you would, before you take your leave."

He made some noise of assent, sensing she was about to broach a graver matter.

"Is it done? Did m'Lord bring us the Calm?" There was no change in her features, but unless he was imagining it, her gnarled hands clutched the cloth a little tighter.

His own hands fisted at the question. How ironic that the Calm would bring happiness to millions… to the whole of Spira… to everyone except himself. _And perhaps one other. _"He did," Auron heard himself answer, in a voice that sounded hauntingly still.

Her only response was a deep, shuddering sigh – just one – yet somehow it sounded like a thousand sighs, in a thousand different voices.

Auron rose from his chair, stiffly, and began to make his way up the stairs to the bed she had prepared for him. Before climbing the first step, however, he put his hand on the bannister and turned back to the old woman, just for a moment. Then he said, "An eternal Calm."

* * *

The next morning he sat by Yuna's bedside, waiting for her to awake. He gazed upon her peaceful little face with a strange feeling he thought might be the beginnings of love. He knew by experience that this was a dangerous thing. And far more disturbing was the thought that these feelings were the same deep love and respect he had felt for Braska, only transferred into a new vessel. _Though a smaller vessel, for sure,_ he thought, amused.

Presently, Yuna's eyes opened and she blinked at him in a sleepy stupor for a moment, before remembering her courtesies. "Good morning, Sir."

"Good morning, Yuna. I wanted to inform that I'll be leaving The Evrae today."

"Yes, Sir," she replied, but her troubled face belied her words.

Never one to dance around an issue, Auron explained, "I'm going to offer you a choice, Yuna. When I leave today, if you so wish it, you can come with me. You can come to live with me, or you can go to live in a school for other children like yourself."

Her face fell. "Other children without mothers and fathers, you mean?"

_That is the gist of it, I suppose._ "Yes."

Inexplicably, he found himself delighted when she decided, "I want to go with you."

* * *

They were half way to the exit of the city when he felt her little hand tug down on his own in weariness. Instantly, he swept her up in his arms so she could rest her head on his shoulder and sleep for a time. A deep yearning began to build inside him as he planned their new home, and he could surely sense Yuna's own restlessness. _It won't be long, he thought. _Peace awaited him on the Isle of Besaid, awaited them both.

Just before she drifted off to sleep, her head warm against his shoulder, he heard her whisper, in the tiniest of voices, "Will you be my father?"

As he looked into those lost little mismatched eyes, it was the easiest thing in the world for him to say yes.


	2. Chapter 1: The Nameday

* * *

"He told himself that the child had a right to know something about the world before renouncing it."

-- _Book Three: The House in the Rue Plumet, I: The Secret House_

_**Les Misérables – Victor Hugo**_

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: The Nameday**

_**--**_

_**Tidus**_

_**--**_

Everything was utterly still.

His skin barely registered the teasing, cool feel of the water lapping against him; he was barely conscious of the electric jolt of energy that signalled the assembly of the playing field. The only thing he could truly feel was his own heartbeat, thumping ruthlessly inside his chest.

Then he came to his feet, and the crowd _erupted_.

It was the sound of a thousand untamed teenagers who had spent weeks in wild anticipation, it was the sound of a thousand children attending their first game after a thousand imaginings, the sound of a thousand Spiran men and women, waving and yelling and cheering for family members and friends and just for the thrill of it…

It was the sound of Blitzball, and it was enough to deafen a city.

Tidus could have screamed that he was the King of all Zanarkand, and not a soul would have heard him.

He _loved_ it.

* * *

_**--**_

_**Yuna**_

_**--**_

It was a quiet existence.

She hadn't always lived in Besaid, but hard as she tried, she could recall very few memories from her time in Bevelle. And yet, she knew there _had_ been a time in Bevelle, because she could still remember how the city lights used to glow in the evening, the exquisite carving on her mother's grave, and an old woman's kindliness.

Her father never talked of those days. He was a stalwart man, a warrior monk from Bevelle, trained in the art of swordsmanship. She knew he had been the participant of many a battle because he kept a large katana in his hut, and he had scars enough to prove that he had used it, including a long, wicked-looking one that trailed over one side of his face, brow to cheek, rendering his left eye useless. When she was young, she'd been sick with worry that it meant he would one day go blind. But now she was older, and wiser – or atleast she liked to think so - and utterly convinced that her father could still see as sharply as the youngest, healthiest of boys on the Isle.

Though suffice to say, there were few of those. The inhabitants of Besaid were mostly wizened old men and women that had fled to the Isle in their younger days in the hope of escaping Sin's notice, as if that was possible, and perhaps a few middle-aged families with squalling babes and young children. Then there was the Blitzball team, of course, a band of healthy young men nearer her age, but they were oft away touring Spira. Besides, her father seemed to have a certain disdain for Blitzball, though why that was, she could not say.

Whichever way you looked at it, there was no one for Yuna to befriend.

And so, as far as she was concerned, there was no better company on the Isle than Auron. She adored her father. He had finished the education that she had started in Bevelle. When she was little she had been proud and delighted to find her father was a clever, knowledgeable man; he taught her letters, sums, geography. He taught her the history of Spira, of its religion and its players, of the Guado, the Al Bhed and the Ronso. He told her about the various creatures to be found throughout Spira, the good and the bad. He explained to her the role of the Summoners of old and the purpose of their pilgrimage. He taught her what the Eternal Calm meant for Spira, and how it would affect her people. He even taught her a few choice words in Al Bhed, which made her extremely curious as to where he had learned them, but she knew better than to ask.

When they weren't at lessons, he took her for walks along the beach or by the ruins, or sometimes read by the side of the hidden lake while she splashed about in it. Yuna had christened the lake "their secret place" in her youth, even though every inhabitant of Besaid already knew about it. But she remembered it had made her father smile.

When she told her father about her decision to learn the Sending, she thought he would have been angry at her for not consulting him, but he had only nodded solemnly and told her he understood. The next morning, on her daily visit to the temple, old Belgemine was waiting for her, and she discovered that her father himself had recruited the woman to teach her the Sending dance. Even better, by some miracle he had obtained a Summoner's staff for her, a beautiful thing, meticulously carved and painted in regal colours.

It seemed he would stop at nothing to please her, and so she never had cause to complain.

Except for one thing that she could never tell him.

Many travellers passed through Besaid, most of them Yevonites adjusting to Spira's new truths, running off in different directions to join factions here, there and all over the place. Her father called them fools, and said they would only cause more conflict, but sometimes Yuna dreamed about running off and joining them. She thought this quiet life might be the death of her.

Besaid's culture was rich in stories and songs of places far away – infact, aside from Blitzball and fishing, that was the _only_ thing it was rich in. And so there was no shortage of fairytales in Yuna's life. Sometimes when she listened, if she tried very hard, she could lose herself in them, taking the place of the protagonist. She could travel to the far countries in the north, wander the sparkling forest of Macalania, or feel the green grass of the Calm Lands beneath her feet, become lost in the streets of Bevelle once more.

Except… whenever she thought about leaving her father behind like that, it hurt her heart deeply. He was happy here on Besaid, with his books and his privacy and the company of his daughter, even a blind person could see it. She sensed a lot of grief in his past, certainly from his reluctance to talk about it, but mostly from the way his countenance changed when she prompted him.

It was for his sake that she stayed, and tried to be content.

Today was her seventeenth nameday, and for the occasion her father had hired a travelling group of troubadours to sing at her feast. He knew well her fondness for "your stories and your songs", as he called them, and she loved him for knowing. Having troubadours at her feast was a rare treat for the islanders of Besaid, and it made her nameday feel special, like something in her life was about to change. Even though she knew it wouldn't, and come tomorrow she would wake up in the same bed on the same sleepy Isle, and nothing would ever change, forever and ever and ever.

But she wanted to believe it, just for tonight.

The troubadours played songs to make the young boys laugh like 'The Guado and the Butterfly', and songs to make the women weep like 'The Last Kilikan', and by the time the feast plates had been cleared away she had heard three different songs about Lord Braska, the High Summoner who defeated Sin.

To her delight, at one point in the evening they launched into 'Land of Light' - a song about Zanarkand, a metropolis city in the far north of Spira.

It was Yuna's favourite song.

Once, when she was little, she thought that someone, not her father, had described Zanarkand to her. They had told her _in Zanarkand, there is a great stadium, all lit up even at night. Great blitzball tournaments are held there, and the stands are always full._ But it seemed like so long ago that she thought she might only have dreamed it. And yet, sometimes if Yuna closed her eyes while she listened to the song, she could almost see the lights, almost touch them. Then she would sigh with longing, and it would end.

At some point during the sixth song about Lord Braska, her father must have returned to his hut, because when she turned to speak to him he was gone. She couldn't really blame him. Yuna admired Lord Braska without limit, and like the rest of Spira owed him her eternal gratitude, and more. But six songs _was_ a little excessive, and besides, not one of them mentioned any of his Guardians. For some reason that irritated her a little – no one in Spira seemed to know much about them at all, or even what had happened to them. _They were important too._

Eager for a change of tune, she ventured to ask one of the singers, "Do you know any songs about women?"

"Aye, I know 'The Fall of Yunalesca,'" he answered her gruffly. "But I didn't think t'would be appropriate, seeing as I've been told she's your namesake." He grinned, showing his crooked teeth. If she had seen them before he had started singing, she would never have guessed his voice would be so sweet.

"Any others?"

"There is one other." said the singer, "But it's rare sad."

"I don't mind so much. Please, if you would…" Yuna entreated, favouring him with her best smile. "It's my nameday."

The singer looked into her face for a long moment, before breaking into another wide grin. "Well, I never could say 'no' to a pretty face." He put his fingers to his harp, and began.

Halfway through the soft, haunting song, she realised that she had heard it before somewhere, though only once. It was a sad song indeed, that began as a love story between a Guado and a human woman, but ended in tragedy as the woman was cast away by her husband, and was so overcome with grief that she decided to become a Fayth, and abandoned her little boychild.

"_He glanced a maiden standing there," _chantedthe singer._ "With locks o' gold that glittered fair..."_

"_With locks o' gold that glittered fair!" _chimed his fellows in chorus.

All of a sudden she noticed her father had returned, and was sitting cross-legged next to her. Being such a large, powerful presence, his ability to disappear quietly and then return again without notice was unnerving, but Yuna had gotten rather used to it by now. She assumed he must have learnt such things from his days training as a warrior monk.

She wished he would tell her more about those days. He had stories too, she _knew_, stories that she was sure would be more than worthy of a song. _If only he would tell them._ His face was set grimly as he listened to the singers.

"_Her locks o' gold are turned to stone_

_And now she wanders the falls alone_

_Oh, now she wanders the falls alone,"_

By the time it had ended, old Belgemine was weeping noisily into her wine.

"But what happened to the child?" Yuna asked, turning to her father.

"That's a sadder story," he replied.

* * *

_**--**_

_**Auron**_

_**--**_

Everything he had done, he had done for her happiness.

The quiet, serious little thing he had found at Amanecera's grave that night had grown up to be a delightful, laughing child, and full of energy.

It hadn't taken long for him to love her. By the time they reached the Isle, he happily welcomed her child's butterfly kisses, or her clinging to his leg when something frightened her, or her calling him 'father' in her soft, tiny voice. It filled him with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness, and purpose, which he was glad to regain finally. He didn't even bother to correct the Besaid villagers when they took Auron and Yuna for a father and his daughter.

To his relief, she adapted easily to Besaid's leisurely way of life. What's more, she made it more simple for him to adjust to it, too; she sought him out constantly and would chatter contentedly to him for hours, never caring if he had little to say in the face of her innocent observations. She also gave him something to focus on; her education. He based her lessons on those he had learnt as a boy in Bevelle, though for Yuna's sake, he made them significantly less severe. She was a conscientious student, and he was pleased and proud to see how quickly she learned.

Now, on the cusp of womanhood, she was growing wiser and more beautiful by the moment, but with that wisdom and beauty came a sadness and ever-growing silence that both shocked and worried him. When she was young, she had confided everything in him; from worries to wishes. Now she locked her heart away even from his sight.

There were times he thought it was his punishment, for keeping his own secrets from her. _The longer I leave them unsaid, the harder it will be, for us both._

Ten years had gone by, and still the same secrets weighed heavily on his shoulders. He thought Besaid had helped to erase his painful memories, but all it had done was push them to the back of his mind, for a time. Back then, it was easier - he hadn't seen the need to burden a young child with such things. _But now…_

Now, he had only a selfish justification for concealing his secrets, and that was losing her - the only thing he had left.

But now, he was in danger of losing her in another way. He feared perhaps Besaid was suffocating her – it had been a fine playpen for the growing child, but was not nearly sufficient for the girl turning woman. He was terrified she would one day regret her life on the too-peaceful Isle, and grow to resent him.

However, he would be the first person to admit that taking Yuna into the outside world had a whole alternative set of dangers, including the power to tear them apart.

The thought made him angry. _In my prolonged absence from the rest of Spira, have I become afraid of it? Have I become a coward?_

He was quite certain he knew the answer.

* * *

_**--**_

_**Yuna**_

_**--**_

That night, her father summoned her to his hut. His own dwelling was still more of a comfort than her own. It was filled with musty old books, and various things she had crafted for him as a child using rocks and plants she had found on Besaid. When she was little and too scared to be without him at night, she used to sleep in his hut too. But she had outgrown the little bed he had made for her and when she reached thirteen she began sharing a tent with Belgemine.

"Yuna," he said, and beckoned her to sit. She did so, sensing the seriousness in his voice. "Today was an important day for you. I think you realise now, that you are old enough to decide for yourself what you want to become in the future."

"But I'm a Sender," she said, confused.

"Yes," he said. He reached out and touched her cheek fondly with callused fingers. "You are. And it was very selfless of you to make such a choice. A Sender must carry a lot of grief for others, often complete strangers. But you chose to follow that path so you could help release their pain. I'm so proud of you, Yuna."

Yuna blushed in embarrassment, not really knowing what to say. But at the same time, she could feel tears coming unbidden to her eyes. _He's really proud of me,_ she wanted to rejoice. Her father rarely expressed his sentiments in such a way.

"So," he continued, "this will be your birthday gift from me. You're almost a woman grown now, and it's time for you to follow your own dr

* * *

eams. Remember… this is your story. And it may be that you don't want to realize your dreams here on Besaid." He smiled at her affectionately, knowingly. "Infact, I understand that you might want to get outside and see more of the world. Maybe you would like to see more of Spira, and return. Maybe you would like to make your home somewhere else entirely, somewhere more suited to you…"

Yuna realised that she was trembling, but not with fear. She was trembling because she truly couldn't believe what her father was telling her. _This is my story,_ she repeated in her head. All these years she had yearned to leave, debating but never daring to ask her father… and now he was freely offering her the choice. She could hardly let herself believe it.

"Yuna, this is what I am saying. If you want to leave Besaid, then we will leave Besaid. Together."

Seeing that he had rendered her quite speechless, her father added gently, "You don't have to give me an immediate decision. You can think on this as long and hard as you want to."

"I… I can choose anywhere?" she said disbelievingly. "Anywhere in the whole of Spira?"

"Name it."

Of course, when it came to it, Yuna didn't have to think long and hard at all.

* * *

**--**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**--**

**Yes, it was more background. I'm sorry. The background stops now! Because, in the next chapter… Tidus. And. Yuna. Will… finally meet! Next chapter should be up soon because it's practically finished. And yes, the 'Zanarkand' in this story will be the Zanarkand of old.**


	3. Chapter 2: To Zanarkand

* * *

"Cosette in her solitude, like Marius in his, was ready to be set alight. Fate, with its mysterious and inexorable patience, was slowly bringing together these two beings charged, like thunder-clouds, with electricity, with the latent forces of passion, and destined to meet and mingle in a look as clouds do in a lightening-flash."

_-- Book Three: The House in the Rue Plumet, VI: The battle begins_

_**Les Mis**__**é**__**rables – Victor Hugo**_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO: To Zanarkand**

**--**

**Yuna**

**--**

She went to Belgemine that morning, to apologise that she wouldn't be continuing to learn the art of Sending.

The old woman only shook her head and laughed gently. "You were born with the talent, child," she told Yuna. "There were times when you were the one teaching me. It's in your blood," she added wisely.

"But," she protested, "My father was never a Sender, or even a Summoner."

Belgemine just smiled sadly and kissed her on both cheeks. "Be off with you, child. You'll do well in Zanarkand, see if you don't. But promise you'll come back and visit your poor old teacher sometime. She'll miss you sorely."

Yesterday Yuna had visited all her favourite retreats on the island in order to say her final farewells – the crumbling old ruins by the beach where she used to try and spot every kind of seabird, the hidden lake where she and her father had passed many idle afternoons, and of course the Temple, where despite its broken purpose, there was always peace to be found.

"I will," she promised Belgemine, feeling suddenly emotional.

Yuna had thought that she wouldn't be leaving much behind on Besaid, but she was beginning to realise just how wrong she had been.

_Oh, I will._

* * *

_**--**_

_**Auron**_

_**--**_

It had not taken long to make arrangements. Auron had never travelled by Airship before – though he chose not to test Yuna's nerves by revealing that particular fact – but he had made contacts on Besaid who used them often. After listening to advice from a number of different islanders, Auron had acquired two places aboard the reliable_ Celsius_.

To his chagrin, the most difficult task proved to be securing his _katana_ on the Airship flight. Travelling around Spira in his youth, strapped securely to his back, the weapon had essentially been his third arm; he had gone nowhere without it. Now, in a world free of Sin, the people of Spira were bolder and more prone to violence, it seemed. And so reluctantly, after a little gentle prompting from Yuna, he had settled on locking it with the rest of their luggage.

Yuna, a trembling bird among the unfamiliar machina, clutched one hand desperately to his as the _Celsius_ took to the skies, the other wrapped tightly around her seatbelt, as though it might break at any moment. She needn't have bothered, of course – Auron had already checked her buckle more times than was strictly necessary.

So many misgivings… but they had all been cast aside when Yuna's face lit up when taking in the infinity of the blue skies, and for a long time thereafter she did nothing but gaze out of her window in childish wonderment, her nerves soothed at last. It warmed his heart to see her so happy; it was a pleasure he hadn't felt in a long while.

_It seems we have made the right decision_, he thought, not without reassurance.

"Are you sure we've brought enough for the journey?" Yuna fretted, when they were some hours into the voyage. "It is the other side of Spira, after all…"

"We'll be there in no time at all," he assured her, putting a hand atop hers. "Wait and see."

* * *

_**--**_

_**Yuna**_

_**--**_

Their first destination in Zanarkand, much to Yuna's lasting disappointment, was a bank.

_A bank,_ she regarded miserably, and thought that it did not even look especially exotic.

"I won't be long, Yuna," her father had told her. "Don't leave the car."

"Yes, father," she had said automatically.

But _that_ had been fifteen minutes ago, and Yuna found her nerves flaring with new anticipation.

She had tried peering out of the windows to pass the time. But the left was no good - there stood the wall of the unexotic bank. The right was a little better – it gave a view across the street of a store selling _machina_ of some sort, and occasionally people walked inside or out in their strange, brightly-coloured clothing. Not enough, however, to quench Yuna's new appetite. In the front window, the street seemed to go on forever, and all she could see were continuous rows of _machina_ transport, never stopping long enough for Yuna to get a proper look. She was obliged to crane her neck to see out the back window, and what she saw did not seem particularly worth it in any case.

_Father sure is taking a long time,_ she thought, habitually folding her hands on her lap. She found herself smiling into the car window impatiently, as though it was another person. "Don't leave the car," she told it absently.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a little voice inside her head suggested, _it wouldn't hurt to take a peek._

She looked down and realised her fingers were tapping distractedly on the back of her other hand. She tried to will them to stop, but they wouldn't obey.

_Just a peek,_ she mused. Where was the harm in just stepping outside the car to have a look? If there was any trouble, she could return. Her father need never know.

"I suppose "just a peek" wouldn't hurt," she agreed.

Quietly, and ever-so-cautiously, as though her father might be waiting outside for the sole purpose of catching her out, she _clicked_ open the car door and stepped carefully out.

The first thing she did was look up. _The buildings are so tall,_ was her first, rather childish thought. So tall, infact, it made her quite dizzy. She recognised their shapes from the ruined buildings in Besaid – curved like giant candlesticks that reached almost to the clouds. They were all coloured in neon blues and greens, stunning to Yuna's eyes – a noticeable contrast with Besaid's earthy tones. The buildings blinked with orange lights, bright with promise… and with a soaring heart Yuna realised that this time she wasn't just imagining – she really _could_ see them, _could_ touch them!

Far off somewhere, she could hear the beginnings of a commotion. She pricked up her hears and listened closely to the sound of many voices shouting out at once. _Father still isn't back,_ she considered, _and perhaps someone is hurt. _She wondered if she really believed that.

In the end, it felt as though the decision wasn't really in her control, at all. She could feel the voices pulling her, beckoning her to them. _They are the sounds of Zanarkand, _she mused. And Zanarkand had been calling to Yuna her whole life, it seemed.

The sounds drew her down a charming side-street filled with flower-pots, then left down a narrow alley, and left again, and there at last was the source of the voices. A crowd was gathered in a wide, paved Plaza, rendered quite beautiful by the glittering orange lights that surrounded it. She had never seen so many people her own age gathered all at once, not that she could remember. They were certainly noisy in their discussion – Yuna caught randomly the words "blitzball", "autograph" and "tournament."

She stepped a little closer, eager to uncover their focus of attention. Yuna was almost at the tail end of the crowd when she realised that it was a blonde-haired boy.

Not just any boy, evidently, and Yuna could see why. He exuded self-confidence, casually twirling a Blitzball on his finger. She assumed he was a player of the sport; his outfit was too unusual to resemble anything but an athelete's uniform, austentacious with its yellow shirt and black leather trouser-shorts. He was a far cry from anyone back on Besaid – even the boys who were of an age with her had been stocky, with lustreless brown hair and long faces covered in freckles. _This_ boy, however… he was muscular, but not ridiculously so, his skin tanned to perfection, and his fine facial features were handsome. Even more mesmerising, she found, was his slightly spiked hair, stirring softly in reaction to the light breeze.

_The colour of the sun, _she thought fondly._ Just like in the songs._

So lost in thought was she, that it took her several moments to realise that the boy was staring right back at her.

"Hi there," he said warmly, and everyone turned to look at her.

Yuna stammered in response, caught off her guard.

"Speak up!" someone prompted her - a young blonde girl decked in green and orange.

When the girl took a step towards her, Yuna's stomach lurched fearfully and she made herself speak. "I'm sorry, I must have taken a wrong turning…" she mumbled, and quickly turned and darted, her cheeks burning.

She didn't even look which way she was going as she quickened her pace, desperate to escape the scrutiny of the crowd. She folded her arms self-consciously and chose the street that looked most like the first one she had thoughtlessly ventured into.

She didn't need to look around to know that everyone she passed was staring at her. Suddenly she felt ridiculously covered up, like a child wrapped in swaddling. It was only a little warmer than it had been in Besaid here, but everyone was wearing shorts, tiny t-shirts and many of the boys wore no shirts at all.

In the intensity of her panic, all the streets had begun to look the same. She regretted ever leaving the car. _Foolish girl,_ she chided herself. _I'll bet father's looking for you right now. If you can't show him you can survive here for even one day, he'll never allow you to stay._ The thought made her so desperate that she decided she would just have to ask for directions.

She finally picked a man standing under what looked like an Inn of some sort, his leg coolly propped up against a wall. With his tufty, unkempt beard, he almost resembled Gachi, the kind old fisherman from Besaid. He was of an age with Gachi too, his greying hair showing the first signs of receding.

"Excuse me, Sir?" she addressed him timidly.

It was only when she spoke that the man seemed to notice her – he took his leg from the wall and stood up straight. _"Sir?"_ He barked a laugh. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes," she said, a little hesitantly. "I'm a little lost. Could you please point me in the direction of the bank?"

"I think I know which way you want." He smiled at her in a reassuring sort of way, but Yuna found herself uneasy under the intensity of his gaze. She wrung her hands together behind her back, faltering.

That was when she felt an arm slip casually around her shoulders. "There you are," said a strangely familiar voice. "I've been looking for you all over."

She turned around, and found the Blitzball boy standing there. He smiled at her first, then at the man with the beard.

"My friend is new to A-East," he apologised to the man. "She doesn't really know her way around yet. I'll take it from here." When the man stood his ground, it seemed to Yuna that the boy shot him a meaningful look. "We're sorry to have bothered you," he continued, his tone slow and firm.

Meanwhile, Yuna just stood by uselessly while the two men sized each other up. She felt like she should be telling him that no, they weren't friends at all. But bizarrely, she felt like she could trust this stranger more than the other. Or perhaps, she thought ashamedly, she only _wanted_ to.

Finally, not-Gachi grumbled something under his breath and turned away in the opposite direction.

When he was safely out of range, the young boy took his arm from around Yuna's shoulders and placed his hands on them instead, regarding her with a sigh.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he asked. His accent seemed very foreign to her, but at the same time it was pleasant to her ears.

"No," she admitted shyly. "I only arrived here today."

"Well, first lesson," he grinned, showing his perfect smile, "Don't let jerks like _that_" – here he gestured over his shoulder with his thumb, "know that you're lost."

"Oh," she heard herself say, rather stupidly.

"Second lesson," he said, more seriously, "Don't wander in this part of town by yourself in the first place. Were you on your own? Did you lose someone?"

Something in his tone reminded her of an adult addressing a lost child, but she felt too much like a child at that moment to truly be offended. "My father. I was in my father's car, and he told me to stay there, but I… well…"

"Thought you'd take a look around?"

She smiled sheepishly.

He laughed. "That sounds like I'd something I'd do. Do you remember what the street looked like at all?"

She tried to remember. "We were outside a bank, but I didn't catch the name of it."

"Hmm," he considered, "It's probably just the old Yevon bank. That's near here. Come on, I'll take you."

She thought he would offer her his arm, like the elders used to do at Besaid, like her father always did, but instead he just smiled that easy smile of his and beckoned her to follow.

"So," he said as they walked, "I take it this is your first time in A-East, right? Which part you from?"

His manner was somewhat childlike, she observed, as she watched him frequently turning himself round to walk backwards, or stretching his arms behind his head in a leisurely fashion. It was an endearing quality, she decided.

"I'm from the Isle of Besaid," she replied, shyly. "And this is my first time in _Zanarkand._"

His blue eyes widened in surprise. _"Where?" _he asked. But he didn't even pause to allow her an answer as he continued, "Your first time in _Zanarkand?_ No wonder you got so lost!"

"I haven't been in a proper city for many years," she admitted. "I _am_ finding it a little difficult to navigate. All these streets feel rather like a maze to me, I don't understand why I'm the only one lost!" As soon as she finished speaking, she wondered where all those words had come from. She was usually prone to shyness around strangers. _He probably thinks I'm just ignorant._

But he only watched her through those smiling blue eyes, she thought perhaps in an understanding way. Presently, he said to her, "Listen, if you're ever lost in these parts again, just whistle and I'll come getcha, okay?"

She cocked her head to one side, confused.

"Like this." He put his fingers to his mouth and blew, lending a shrill, high-pitched sound to the air. It surprised her so much that she gasped in surprise.

He began to laugh again, when suddenly a booming voice sounded, "_YUNA_."

Abruptly, boy and girl both turned around in search of the source. There, at the far opposite side of the street, stood Auron. He looked utterly menacing in his deep crimson robe and sunglasses as he strode quickly downhill to meet her. He looked quite furious, too, Yuna noted.

"That's my father up there," Yuna explained meekly to the boy, feeling her stomach lurch at the prospect of facing her father's wrath. She assumed the boy's "whistle" must have unwittingly alerted him to them.

"Huh?" said the boy, crooking an eyebrow. "Well, he looks kinda… _mad_," he finished unsurely, "so I guess I'll just let you go alone from here."

She thanked the boy quickly, bowing to him in the old Yevon fashion. When she raised her head again she found him looking slightly surprised, but he simply reached up to scratch the back of his head nervously, and said, "You're welcome." Then she turned and hurried over to her father.

"Who is that?" Auron barked, when she reached him. He didn't even glance at her, but instead looked – or more accurately, _glared_ – straight past her at the boy, who was still standing there, watching.

"Oh," she suddenly realised, "I don't know his name… he helped me find my way back…"

"I thought I told you not to leave the car," her father interrupted harshly.

"I'm so sorry, I just wanted a quick look, but then I--"

"I'll hear your explanations later," he cut in once more. He offered his arm – though in truth, the motion seemed more forced than offered - and she took it swiftly, eager not to encourage her father's ire.

Before they turned the corner, she threw one last, rueful glance over her shoulder and inexplicably found herself overjoyed to see the boy still smiling after her.

* * *

_**--**_

_**Tidus**_

_**--**_

"Hey, where's Bespade?" he asked, as he was presented with a full plate of spaghetti.

Lulu regarded him curiously, setting her hands on her hips. "Firstly, I assume you mean _Besaid_ and secondly… where did you hear that name?"

"Yeah," Wakka chimed in, "Geography's not exactly your strong point, ya?"

Tidus scowled at him over the table until Lulu clipped the back of her husband's head and commented, "Oh, while it is _your_ strong point, I suppose, Wakka? I seem to remember _someone_ thinking Djose was a musical instrument in his younger days."

Tidus snorted with laughter as Wakka's face turned a shade to shame his fiery red hair. It was odd to see the big, well-muscled man blush. _And hilarious._ Odd, and hilarious.

Lulu was a different picture altogether. For all she looked like some sultry model you might spot in a _LeBlanc_ magazine, she had a stern face and an ever sterner tongue.

_Wakka doesn't know what he's gotten himself into, marrying this one,_ he thought to himself gleefully, until Lulu snapped at him to close his mouth while he was eating. From that moment on, both men ate their meal solemnly, glaring defiantly at Lulu whenever she turned her back to them.

Tidus decided he was never going to get married. Ever.

He tried not to beg for his dinner at Wakka and Lulu's too often, but he hated eating at home, hated home in general, and they seemed to take pity on him. Even though his father was a Blitzball whiz back in his day, he hadn't taught Tidus a thing since he was about eight years old. Wakka had taken his place as his Blitzball Coach, and in many ways as his father, too.

"Besaid is far in the south, a little to the west," Lulu told him knowledgeably, "It's a very small island, with a very simple way of life." She arched a graceful eyebrow in his direction, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," replied Tidus, and shovelled another spoon of spaghetti into his mouth.

He thought about the girl he had seen in A-East today. Her choice of clothes had given her the air of one of the Summoners of old he had seen in the Sphere Theatre, like Lady Chemina or Lord Braska. _She looks like some Yevonite devotee,_ Rikku had said to him as they watched her walk off. Except that couldn't be true, because the Yevon faith didn't exist anymore, just New Yevon, and the Youth League and a host of other empty faiths that meant nothing to Tidus.

Whatever her story was, she had looked so goddamn helpless standing there that Tidus just couldn't stand still when he watched her inadvertently heading down a black alley. Of course, the fact that she'd been so pretty might have played a part in his decision. She certainly stood out, and not just because of her bizarre wardrobe.

As he gulped down the rest of his meal, he wondered who'd noticed who first… because when he finally caught himself staring at the girl, he realised she'd been staring right back.

_She seemed pretty cool, if maybe a little clueless,_ he thought, strangely fond feelings bubbling up inside him. Usually, he would have tried getting her Sphere number, but that was before he found out that she had the scariest and most intimidating father in the whole of freakin' Spira.

_Well, _he concluded, _except maybe mine._

* * *

_**--**_

_**Auron**_

_**--**_

On the car journey to their new residence, Auron meticulously tried to explain to Yuna that this was_ not_ Besaid, and that these people were _not_ the friendly islanders she knew from home, and that it was _dangerous_ to wander the streets alone, especially when you were a young girl.

To her credit, Yuna's apology was so fervent that one might have thought she had committed a far worse crime. But at the same time, Auron surmised that she was not telling him the full story of her little adventure. To hear her tell it, she had lost herself in a side-street and was guided back to the bank by a young Zanarkander when she asked him for directions. Well, from the way the boy had stared after her as she scurried up the street, they had talked about more than just directions.

The lying alone irked him, but more disturbing was the realisation that Yuna had disobeyed him for the first time in her life. _And we've only been in Zanarkand a day, _he thought wearily.

For the moment, however, he was willing to conclude that she was only gripped with excitement. Moving from a near-deserted island to such a city was bound to have some effects on her.

Those were his thoughts when Yuna suddenly ventured to ask, quite out of the blue, "Father, how do you whistle?"

He chuckled shortly, despite himself. He wanted to inwardly curse himself for his inability to stay angry with her for any long period of time, but in a way he was also relieved that she had broken the somewhat frosty silence that had settled between them after she voiced her apology. "Here," he smiled "Put your two fingers on the top of your mouth, like this." He demonstrated, leaving the Sphere to control the car's direction for the time being. When Yuna did the same, he said, "Now blow."

She tried, but only succeeded in blowing soundless air through her teeth.

"Just keep practising," he said, and reached out to ruffle her hair.

And by the number of times he was disturbed from his tea that week with a sharp, piercing sound, she did just that.

**--**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**--**

****

**NEXT CHAPTER: Will feature a little more Tidus background, the introduction of an FFX-2 character, and perhaps another rendez-vous ; )**

THIS CHAPTER: So the meeting was very blatantly based on the somewhat awful movie version of Les Mis. But to be fair, I warned you about that early on. It just felt right to me and it was really easy to write, which is unusual for me, and most importantly, I enjoyed writing it.


	4. Chapter 3: A Whistle

"That gate was always locked, and Valjean left the garden untended in order that it might not attract notice. In this, perhaps, he was mistaken."

_- Book Three: The House in the Rue Plumet, II: Jean Valjean – Garde Nationale_

_**Les Misérables – Victor Hugo**_

**CHAPTER THREE: A Whistle**

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

There were times when Tidus looked at his so-called father, and no matter how deep inside himself he searched, found nothing but bitterness.

This was one of those times.

Tidus had woken to the faint sound of Blitzball commentators ringing in his ears, and assumed he must have been dreaming about the upcoming tournament. Wakka had been driving them hard lately_; From now on, you're going to eat, sleep and drink Blitzball,_ he'd told the team at the beginning of the month, inducing a chorus of groans.

But as Tidus sleepily neared the living-room with the commentators still chattering away, he realised it was the ViewSphere he had heard.

Around the corner was a truly pitiful sight; his sorry excuse for an old man was sprawled on the sofa, arms and legs jutting outward at awkward angles. A beer bottle had fallen from his outstretched hand and was leaking onto the carpet.

_If he isn't drinking himself senseless in some seedy C-South bar, he just does it in his own home._

Tidus picked up the beer bottle, the same way he'd done a hundred times before. He stepped carefully so as not to wake up his old man - or his wrath. When he moved to turn the ViewSphere off he found himself strangely drawn into the game instead, making himself comfortable to watch the last few minutes.

His father had hundreds of Blitzball games like these recorded on Spheres. It would often drive Tidus out of the house, the way his father watched the same games over and over again with fierce obsession. What exactly he was looking for was more than Tidus could discern. _Unless maybe it's his lost dignity._ Sometimes Tidus thought that his old man was so caught up in the past, he was no longer aware of what was happening in the present.

Tidus studied the Jecht of old on the ViewSphere with an almost morbid fascination. The contrast would astound anybody. His father was in his prime then; healthy, youthful, full of ambition and enthusiasm and arrogance. Everyone always commented on how proud he must be to have "the great Jecht" for a father. Well, Tidus was sure he didn't know any "great Jecht." All he knew was this drunken failure, lying on some couch in all his unconscious glory. _Here he is. Here's your "Great Jecht", the Almighty Alcoholic_. _What a hero…_

He was glad atleast his friends knew the truth, and were smart enough never to broach the subject.

Naturally, the followers of "the great Jecht" had been devastated when their idol had taken a grave injury to the knee, rendering him unable to resume his Blitzball career. Tidus himself was unsure of the origin of the injury; only that it had occurred ten years ago, shortly after his mother's death, when his father took a trip around Spira. From the way Jecht carried himself, you would never guess that he'd taken a serious injury; despite his insistent drinking he seemed as strong and robust as ever. Infact, if Tidus didn't know any better, he would have sworn his old man was faking the whole thing.

Jecht wouldn't answer any questions about the nature of his trip ten years ago, snapping when anyone even made a reference to it. Frankly, Tidus didn't care what the hell his father had been doing on the trip, he only cared that his father had decided to take his little vacation so soon after his mother's death. _I was only seven. _As much as Tidus hated to admit it, he could really have used his father's support back then.

When he was growing up, Tidus used to think about running away, and would spend days wondering whether his father would even come after him. But he had never mustered the courage to actually find out.

In the deepest pockets of his memory, he thought he could remember a time when his relationship with his father had been better, closer. But after his Blitzball career had come to an abrupt end, everything seemed to change…

"Wow, folks," chuckled the commentator in the Sphere, to the sound of wild applause and cheering, "I think we can count that as another victory the Zanarkand Abes owe to the one and only Jecht…"

Tidus switched off the ViewSphere, and went to Blitzball practise.

* * *

_**Auron**_

* * *

Auron had missed that smile.

Three weeks had passed since they arrived in the city of lights, and Yuna seemed to be adapting to life here beautifully. Each turn of the corner held a veritable fascination for her, every passer-by was an exotic stranger, each building a whole kingdom to explore.

He and Yuna regularly ventured into the city together, and each day he arranged a new spectacle for her – a trip to the Old Yevon temple, to the botanical gardens, and most recently, to the Machina museum. Even more often, to Yuna's evident delight, they would stop to listen to the troubadours and dancers in the street and he would give her some gil to leave at their feet.

Auron watched with a quiet relief as Yuna's sad eyes were made bright again by the wonders unravelling before her. Not only that, but Zanarkand seemed to have mended their relationship too; Yuna confided in him all her first impressions of the great city and asked him shrewd questions when she stumbled upon technology she did not understand. She appeared infinitely happy to hang from his arm and chatter softly to him.

Yuna had never been one to seek the company of her peers in Besaid, which had been a guilty comfort for her Guardian. After all, there were many different kinds of people in Spira, as he had learned ten years ago, to his sorrow. _And Yuna is so trusting she isn't like to know the difference between a Samaritan and a street thief._

However, recognising the need for a female confidant in her life, Auron had hired a maid to replace Belgemine, Yuna's old Besaidian teacher. Besides taking care of Yuna's needs – her clothes and such-like, Shelinda also kept the house immaculate and had proven to be an apt cook. Auron had chosen carefully; the young woman was an ex-Acolyte, and therefore not likely to be a bad influence on Yuna in any way. He had told Shelinda that Yuna was the Lady of the house, and to obey her in all things, though he chose not to confide that particular fact in Yuna.

Their house itself was a good find. It was situated in B-North Zanarkand, a wealthy area, yet still quiet enough to suit his tastes. Mindful of Yuna's love for the feel of green grass beneath her bare feet, he had hoped to acquire a garden for her, and to his satisfaction, had found a residence with two. There was a spacious backyard and a scruffy wild garden with a wrought iron gate that looked out onto the street, allowing his little dreamer to gaze to her heart's content.

Perhaps Yuna's happiness was rubbing off on him, because Auron found that even he was enjoying the sensation of being a part of life again. Over the weeks, his "musty old books", as Yuna fondly called them, were replaced with piles of Spiran newspapers. Their pages were teeming with prejudice, of course, each one highly biased towards either New Yevon or the Youth League, and plastered with propaganda. But there were some notices of worth to be found, too.

Such as the increasing rogue fiend problem, on the outskirts of the city and in the more remote areas just outside Zanarkand.

The remnants of the Crusaders, now a force full of ex-Yevonites and Al Bhed, were rooting out the remaining fiends that Sin left behind, as well as the ones created anew each day by Unsent spirits. However, the number of their warriors was growing smaller by the day. People were more interested in politics in these peaceful days; more attracted by paper than by swords. _With no more need for Guardians, the arts of black magic and of swordsmanship are dying out, it seems._ It made Auron wonder whether he might not be able to do something to help. His skills with a _katana_ were as sharp as ever, and as a boy he had entertained a fierce admiration for Lord Mi'hen, founder of the Crusaders. _There is no harm in inquiring._

He told Yuna as much when they broke their fast that morning, and was relieved to find she thought it a wonderful idea.

"Father," she began. "If you are going to inquire about work, I wonder… might you look into… well…"

Auron lowered his newspaper. "What is it, Yuna?"

"Sendings," she confessed. "I know we're not in Besaid anymore, and that I didn't really finish my training, but Belgemine said… well, she said that I didn't need to, that I had the talent all along." Yuna blushed modestly at that, and cast her blue and green eyes downwards. "She said it was in my blood."

"_In your blood." Did she indeed? _Auron reflected. How much did that old woman know?

"I'm sure they must request Sendings here in Zanarkand, too," Yuna continued. "I would still like to continue to do my duty to Spira… if that is okay with you, father."

Auron watched her with a protective tenderness as she bowed her head and awaited his reply. He admired her bravery and was proud of her dedication to her cause. _To continue to do her duty to Spira. Did you hear that, Braska?_

"Yuna. You should have told me earlier," he chided gently. "Of course you shall continue them, if that is your wish."

"Thankyou, father!" She favoured him with a beaming smile and even blew him a kiss across the table.

Auron smiled back before returning his attention to his newspaper, having been inspired to promptly pursue Yuna's inquiries… and his own. _After all, I have a duty to Spira, too._

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

She adored the little garden from the moment she set foot in it. Its wildness was its charm, so she made no effort to tidy it; she did, however, add to it devotedly. Infact, Yuna dedicated many a sunny Zanarkand morning to planting and tending her hibiscus blossoms, whose seedlings Auron had obtained at her request.

The hibiscus had been her favourite flower ever since her father explained to her that the little silver flower dangling from her necklace was one. She had owned the necklace since before she could remember. Her father insisted that he could not recall the its origin, so Yuna liked to pretend her mother had given it to her. _Or maybe it even belonged to her…_

When she wasn't tending her flowers, or out walking with her father, she liked nothing more than to stand at the garden gates, watching the people of Zanarkand go about their daily lives. Her eyes would dart keenly between the assorted passers-by as she filled her head with made-up storied about their destinations. Perhaps they were going to dine in the highest room in the tallest tower, or to dance under the lights of the most brightly-lit streets, or best of all, to watch a Blitzball game in the great stadium.

It was during one of these religious observations of the outside world that Yuna saw the Zanarkand youth for the second time.

She was not entirely to blame for the incident; he was the kind of person who drew the eye easily. Standing in the shelter of the garden, she contemplated the boy's ostentatious Blitzball outfit and spiked golden hair for several minutes before it dawned on her.

_That's __**him**__, the boy who helped me!_

Yuna thought she had forgotten him these past three weeks, but taking in the charming features of his face brought everything rushing back – the smiling blue eyes, the easy grin… before she knew what she was doing, she had brought her fingers to her lips and whistled with all her might.

It had the desired effect. The golden-haired youth stopped abruptly in the street, his athletic frame turning slowly before finally turned slowly and locking on to her figure at last. It was difficult to tell from this distance, but Yuna thought he looked a little confused, if anything. For a moment she wanted to hide. _Yuna, what have you done? He doesn't even remember you, _she scolded herself_. What will you say to him?_

The boy's companion – a brawny, red-headed man – nudged his friend in the side, grinning and murmuring something that Yuna was too far away to hear.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest when he finally approached her. She grasped the wrought-iron bars of the garden gates tightly, squeezing them so hard she thought she might bruise her hands, and tried to think of an excuse for whistling.

"Hello," she finally uttered, when he was close enough for Yuna to see every feature on his face. She tried to say something else, but for some dreadful reason the words wouldn't come.

The look he returned to her was more curious than confused, and he offered hesitantly, "Look, I don't mean to sound rude but… do I know you?"

"I met you in the side-street that day - do you remember?" she blurted in broken sentences, so desperate for him not to dismiss her. "You helped me find my way back to the bank."

His eyes widened.

"Yes," she said, as though admitting to a crime. "It's me." She locked her hands behind her back, the same way she always did when she was nervous.

"Well whaddya know…" He shook his head in disbelief, then flashed her a smile finally. "Hey, how are you doing? Please don't tell me you're lost in there," he quipped.

"_No,_" she laughed shyly, bashfulness replacing panic in the face of his handsome smile. "This is my new house."

"New house, huh?" The boy lifted his head to study her surroundings, as if weighing their worth for himself. Then he wrapped each of his hands around the wrought iron bars of the garden gates, and gave them a small shake, testing them. There was almost an air of arrogance in him, but he was not malicious. It seemed an innocent sort of arrogance, if that were even possible, only endearing him to Yuna even more.

"Thankyou so much for your help before," she said, eager to draw his attention. It had been so long since she had talked with someone her own age that Yuna found herself hanging on his every word.

"No problem," he replied confidently. "Hey, so was your old man mad at you?"

"A little," she winced, and dispelled the memory with a quick shake of her head.

"So what do you think of Zanarkand so far?"

"Oh, it's amazing!" she exclaimed sincerely. "I've been to see the botanical gardens, the Machina museum… oh, let me see… and the old Yevon temple – it was so beautifully lit! Oh! And once, father and I watched a parade down the street. There were dancers and singers with the most beautiful outfits I've ever seen, in colours that I don't think they even _have_ back in Besaid!" She was speaking too fast again, she knew. Perhaps it was to do with her subconscious desperation to make herself interesting before this exotic stranger walked out of her life forever.

But the boy didn't look bored at all – on the contrary, he was smiling at her, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you like it so much! Have you seen our Blitzball stadium yet?"

As giddy as Yuna had felt mere seconds ago, at the mention of the stadium a feeling of helplessness washed over her being as sudden as a tidal wave. _If only he knew_. She wanted to see the Blitzball stadium more than anything… but not all her dreams were surmountable. "The great stadium," she murmured. "All lit up at night."

He laughed. "That's the one!"

She smiled sadly. "You're a Blitzball Player, aren't you?"

"Am I a Blitzball player?" he repeated in tones of mock-astonishment. "You're only looking at the star player of the Zanarkand Abes!"

She was about to ask if he played there often, but her question was cut in half when a voice sounded somewhere behind them. "Hey, Romeo! Enough with the flirting, ya! Practise started ten minutes ago!"

_His Blitzball teammate_, she realised. To Yuna's satisfaction, her new friend looked slightly pestered by the interruption.

"I apologise for my friend the slavedriver over there," the boy complained, and she giggled in response. He sighed, and drove his fingers through his beautiful golden hair. "Listen, I have to go to practise now… but now that I know where you've been hiding all this time, maybe I can come by again."

"Of course!" she cried, a little too enthusiastically. She tried for a calm composure instead, and said in her most serious voice, "I'm here most days."

He nodded, his blue eyes filled with laughter. "It was nice to see you again… uh…"

"Yuna," she offered shyly.

He smiled softly. "Yuna… that's kinda pretty. I'm Tidus."

It was the last time Yuna ever had to work at bringing him to her gates.

From that day, Tidus always made time to stop by her garden gates to talk with her, time enough to exchange a few rushed, friendly words, whether for a few brief moments or the length of an entire afternoon. Yuna, too, kept her promise, and waited there for him every day, putting down her books or her seedlings or any other task she had to hand the moment she heard the warmth of his voice calling to her.

Some days he would only have time to wave at her as he sprinted past the gate in a late frenzy, but she found herself rescheduling her walks with her father, just so she could be there to wave back.

Even in that wholly innocent exchange of hand gestures, Yuna felt a flush of happiness, knowing that she had her first friend here.

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

"Why did you choose to come to Zanarkand, Yuna?"

He was leaning against a small corner formed by Yuna's garden gates and the jutting brick wall they were built into, while Yuna knelt in the green grass opposite him, her deep blue skirts fanned out over her knees.

The harsh, black iron gates of her garden were all that separated them. Because Tidus was sitting outside Yuna's garden rather than inside it with her, people often gave them lingering looks as they passed. Tidus didn't care, of course, and made sure everyone knew it by arranging himself in the most leisurely position possible.

It had been a little over a week since he had first glimpsed her standing there, looking so lost and desolate. At first he had taken pity on her, calling on her every day to try and hearten her spirits, the same way he might try to raise morale in the Zanarkand Abes. But over the past week, he had begun to discover that she was actually a pretty interesting girl, and had come to look forward to the brief moments they spent together.

Tidus supposed he shouldn't really be surprised; she was from the other side of Spira, after all, and he had only ever travelled as far as Luca. Yuna was a veritable treasure trove of stories about worlds apart from his. And while lost and desolate she sometimes appeared, she was also startlingly pretty. The girls of Zanarkand had a brash, bold way of presenting themselves, but Yuna's movements had a shy, graceful femininity to them. _Who's the princess?_ Wakka had commented to him, when they first saw her slight form standing alone in the garden.

"Why I chose Zanarkand…" She glanced at him timidly from the corner of her eye. "You'll think it's silly."

"I won't," he promised. "Tell me."

Yuna sighed. "Someone once told me when I was very small,_ 'In Zanarkand, there is a great stadium, all lit up even at night. Great blitzball tournaments are held there, and the stands are always full." _Ever since then, I wanted to see for myself._" _She glanced up at him sheepishly. "I know it's foolish, but-"

"No it's not," he interrupted. "Yevon, Yuna, you're allowed to have dreams. And it's worth the hype – the stadium, I mean. You'll see. Who's in your team, Yuna?"

"My… I beg your pardon?"

"Your team," he repeated. "Your Blitz team? Who do you support? Please don't tell me it's the Luca Goers," he joked. "Hey, wait, does Besaid have a Blitz team?"

"You've heard of Besaid…?" she asked, looking at him strangely.

It took him a few moments to realise why. _Oh shit. I told her before I'd never heard of it, didn't I? _What was it Lulu had said? "Besaid. It's a small island in the far south of Spira, a little to the… uh… west, right?"

Yuna looked amused. _No wonder, I totally sounded like I was quoting a geography book._ For a second he thought she was going to laugh at him, but instead she cast her russet head downwards, almost as though she were ashamed. "I've never been to a Blitzball game," she confessed.

"_What?_"

"Is that really awful?" she moaned, burying her face in her hands.

"No… no, it's not," he said, trying and failing to disguise his own surprise. Truth was, in Zanarkand, confessing that you'd never been to a Blitz game was like claiming you'd never seen the sun. "I guess. It's just that… well, you're the first person I've met that's never been to a game before." He offered a half-apologetic grin.

Yuna drew her face from her hands and cast her eyes downwards again, playing with the beads in her hair. "My father doesn't like Blitzball," she explained. "I don't know why exactly, but one day when I asked him if we could go see a game, he became so quiet… I'd never seen him like that before. He never even answered me. I didn't want to cause him pain in any way… so I thought it would be best not to mention it again. I felt guilty for even asking, you know?"

_So her old man keeps a few secrets under his belt. Well there's something we have in common._ They sat in silence for a while, each reflecting on their own personal burdens. Yuna, however, seemed the type given to thoughtful musing, while Wakka had once told Tidus that he had the attention span of a bite bug.

After a few moments, he decided that studying Yuna was more interesting than contemplating the hardships of being the son of Jecht. _She just looks so damn _sad. Perhaps it was the sheer intensity of that sadness that made him ask, "Hey Yuna… you wanna see it?"

"Mm? See what?"

"The stadium."

"The Blitzball stadium?" she questioned. "More than _anything_. But I told you, I can't-"

"Not with your old man, sure. What if _I_ took you there?"

"You could do that?" she asked in awed tones. "You could take me to see it?"

He laughed at her astonishment. "Sure! Even 'all lit up at night', if you want."

"How? How could you possibly?"

"Yuna, please. I'm the ace of the Zanarkand Abes! I practically _live_ there!"

Truth was, he could get her anything from a free season ticket to a limited edition blitzball signed by the entire team… hell, he could probably get her a free session in the pool if she suddenly felt the desire to try her hand at Blitzball someday. It was only that he didn't usually make the effort to, even for a pretty girl… but this time…

"Tidus… there's no place in the entire _world_ I'd rather see than that stadium," Yuna promised. She had folded her hands in her lap, and was looking directly at him. "But I don't think my father would like me to go with a stranger - not that you are - not to me anyway… but... well, you saw the look he gave you in the alleyway."

Tidus held back a snort of disdain. _That old man again. He keeps her locked up like a bird in a cage._ Yet he kept his mouth shut, remembering his own father. This wasn't a perfect world, and not everyone had perfect parents.

Presently he gathered himself and began to walk back and forth across the width of the gate. Yuna watched him thoughtfully from her seat amid the flowers. Finally Tidus shrugged at her and concluded, "Why don't you just _not_ tell him, then?"

"You want me to go against his wishes?" Yuna sighed, looking down at her gracefully folded hands. "He's not as bad as you think, you know," apparently reading his thoughts. "My father… he is a good man. He's given me a good life."

"You call this a life? Gods, look at you, Yuna, you're _behind_ _bars_!" He shook the wrought-iron gates of her little garden to make his point. Then he pushed away from the bars and sauntered backwards, stretching his arms wide. "The greatest city in Spira is waiting for you out here!"

"He just wants to protect me…" she said, he thought with a little less certainty this time. "He only does what's best for me."

Sensing he had touched upon a delicate subject, Tidus kept his voice gentle as he said, "If you believe that, then why did you disobey him the first time?"

He watched the conflict play on her pretty face. Finally, she looked up and her eyes met his, and it seemed to him that her next sentence was hesitant. "Tomorrow night… father leaves for West Zanarkand for two days."

"Yes!" Tidus said hopefully, punching the air with his fist. _That's my girl!_

"_But_," Yuna emphasised, "He's hired a maid for me."

"Man, a baby-sitter, huh?"

"I don't really know her very well yet, but she used to be an Acolyte. Aren't they supposed to be very strict?"

_Score! That might actually work! _Tidus thought. "They're also very obedient… and easy to fool, besides." He and Rikku had tricked an Acolyte or two in their time, but he didn't think Yuna was the kind of girl who would appreciate those sorts of stories. "Trust me, Yuna, this won't be a problem at all. They're all the same, all in their beds while the sun is still out."

"But, how will I get in and out of the house?" Yuna asked him, "Father always locks it in the evenings."

"I'll bet he does," said Tidus dryly. "How high up is your window?"

"Too high to jump, if that's what you're suggesting."

"What about the lower windows?" he replied quickly, "Could you climb in one of those and get back to your room from there? Don't tell me you don't have access to the _window_ keys."

Her expression was strangely unreadable as she peered at him for a long moment, her head tilted to one side_. She looks like she's suspicious of me_, he thought, a little disappointed. Then she burst out playfully, "I don't suppose you've done this before?"

He laughed loudly. He could sense he had just discovered the beginnings of another side to this girl, and he was eager to lure the rest of it out of her.

"What about the garden gates?" Yuna went on to say, "I don't have the keys for _those._"

"No problem!" he insisted. "Just jump 'em!"

She eyed the height of the gates dubiously. Watching her, Tidus said confidently, "I'll show you right now if you want." He made to put his trainer in the first foothold between the bars.

"No, no!" she laughed, waving her hands frantically at him. "I believe you! Don't climb over now – father's window is just around the corner!"

"Okay, fine," he consented. "Lessons can come later. Yuna, the rest is all subterfuge. I assume you know the correct way to arrange pillows under your bedcovers?"

It was well into the afternoon before they finished formulating their plan, but by the end of it all they had enough secrets between them to put their fathers to shame.


	5. Chapter 4: Blue Night Over Us

"So what did they talk about, those lovers? They talked about flowers and swallows, sunset and moonrise, everything that to them was important; about everything and about nothing."

_- Book Eight: Enchantment and Despair, II: The bemusement of perfect happiness_

_**Les Misérables, Victor Hugo**_

**CHAPTER 4: Blue Night Over Us**

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

Tidus suspected that Gippal's home life was as volatile as his own, because as often as Tidus begged his supper at Lulu and Wakka's, Gippal could be found foraging in his own kitchen cupboards. _Well, __whenever __he __knows __Jecht __isn't __around, __anyway._

He didn't know where his old man had stumbled off to this afternoon, and didn't particularly care. The Luca Goers were finally playing the Kilika Beasts and he was grateful to have the ViewSphere to himself.

"You know, there's only one thing that would make this more perfect," Gippal said once he had planted himself in Tidus' favourite chair and helped himself to a bag of sea salt _Omegas_.

Rikku always said that the two of them looked alike, but Tidus didn't agree with her at all. Especially because so many people commented that the Al Bhed boy's wild hairstyle resembled a chocobo. And Tidus would be damned if his beautiful hair was going to be compared to a chocobo.

And the boy's personality… that was even wilder than his hairstyle – impulsive, rebellious - - never focusing on one thing for too long. He had even bought into that whole faction nonsense for a while, getting himself into trouble dancing around the Youth League and New Yevon, until he finally came to his senses.

"Which is what, exactly?" Tidus said impatiently. _Give me a break, the __game__'__s __about __to __start._

"A Bikanel beer, ice cold."

"My old man 'probly has some, but if he finds out someone's been in his digs, it's your head, not mine."

"Fair enough," said Gippal, pushing himself out of his chair.

Tidus rolled his eyes. "Gippal…" He hadn't intended for the Al Bhed boy to take the challenge seriously. If anyone's head would be for the chop, it would be Tidus' own. Though no doubt, he reflected, Gippal had suspected as much. _Hell, __it __probably __spurred __him __on._Gippal could be a strange sort of best friend at times.

Tidus heaved a long suffering sigh as he heaved himself out of his chair and followed the boy to his father's room. "Gippal, the game's about to start," he complained. "We'll miss the cheers…"

When Tidus reached his father's room, he noticed that Gippal had already thrown a couple of closet doors open. _Definitely __a __sign __of __invasion. __Jecht __is __gonna __**skin **__me._ You had to hand it to him though - Gippal sure didn't waste any time.

The Al-Bhed boy was contemplating the large wooden door built into the left wall of the room. Whatever was inside was most likely _not_ a case of Bikanel beer, however, the door shining an electric blue around the rims.

"What does he keep in there?" said the Al Bhed, indicating with his chin and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"I dunno," Tidus said, lingering uncomfortably in the hallway. His father's room always inspired a certain sense of fear in him. "My old man always locks it." He scowled. "Once when I was ten, he found me trying to pry it open and kicked my ass for it."

"It ain't locked now."

"What?" _That__can't__be__right._ He had been trying to break into that closet for years. "That's impossible!"

Tidus stormed over, his footsteps falling heavy and frustrated – why couldn't they just go watch the damn _game_? - and tried the door himself in the hope of proving Gippal wrong.

It swung half-way open.

"Hell then," Gippal declared like a call to arms. "What're we waitin' for?"

He knew it was useless to attempt talking Gippal out of it. Gippal was just one of those people. And besides, Tidus was kind of curious himself. A little curious. Not very. _The__game__can__wait._

Sharing a half-nervous glance, they each placed a palm flat against the door and pushed it - hesitantly, as though an alarm might trigger if they were too abrupt.

_Gods…_

Wide-eyed and curious, they waded ankle-deep into the spectacular clutter of a space large enough to hold more than just a wardrobe, kicking aside all manner of equipment – tubes, nozzles, empty sphere frames, broken shards, even several beer bottles. _I __wonder __if __this __is __where __my __father __left __his __dignity,_Tidus jested with himself. _Somewhere __under __all __this __crap?_ He didn't know whether the thought made him amused or uncomfortable.

Those feelings fled, however, and were replaced with awe when he caught sight of the items on the many scores of shelves, blue and round and shining brighter than stars.

"It's a bunch of spheres…" Tidus said, genuinely shocked.

"No," Gippal corrected. "It's a whole shitload of spheres." He laughed. "Baralai and Nooj would love to get their hands on these."

_Forget __Baralai __and __Nooj, __**I **__c__an't __wait __to __get __**my **__hands __on __them_, thought Tidus.

Gippal grabbed the first Sphere that caught his eye. He held it up into the half-light so they could both see the image materialise before their eyes.

The footage was blurry, as old Spheres often were; the animate material inside had disintegrated over the years. Yet Tidus thought he could make out a young man holding something sharp and silver - a sword, maybe? – and another man next to him, taller. _Does __he __have__… __**blue **__**hair**__?_

"It's your Dad and… some Guado freak." There was an uncharacteristic tone of shock lacing Gippal's voice.

It was his old man alright, Tidus couldn't deny it; but why would he have a sword? Tidus tried to imagine his father swordfighting, but the only image he could conjure in his mind was Jecht swinging it drunkenly around a room saying things like "Boy, don't you tell me what I can't do, I'm the best there is!"

"What the hell is-" Gippal began, but Tidus shushed him with a sharp gesture, straining to here the voices in the sphere.

"_Hey __Jyscal, __you're __in __my __light! __Move __over!"_ It was a gravelly tone, one all too familiar.

"_My __Lord, __I __must __object. __We __have __no __time __for __this __folly," _a male voice scoffed from somewhere behind whoever was recording. It was an educated voice, one that spoke with a kind of eloquence that reminded him of… well, of Yuna. When had his old man ever mixed with people like that?

"_Oh, __shut __your __mouth, __you __big __stiff."_ That was _definitely_ his old man. Tidus found himself mesmerised. _Could __this __be __footage __of __my __father's __journey?_ His heart hammered wildly. Maybe he could finally find out what had happened all those years ago… why his father had changed so much.

Still he hesitated._ Do __I __even _**_want _**_to __know?_ He had become so used to hating his father that if he suddenly had a reason not to, he thought it might turn his whole life around. Tidus' thoughts ran so chaotically that he could barely think and concentrate on the Sphere at the same time.

"What the _hell_ are you boys doing in here!"

He and Gippal were so entranced that it took them both a long deafening moment to realise that that last voice wasn't from the Sphere. Together they whipped around just in time to see Jecht filling in the doorway, red-faced and shaking with anger. "Get out of this room, the both of you! I don't EVER want to see you sticking your noses in here again, you got that?"

Tidus was so taken aback by his father's fury that he was momentarily stunned to silence. When he regained his wits, his anger followed swiftly. "Calm down, dad! What's the big deal, anyway?"

"Damnit, boy, don't you _dare_ tell me to calm down! I asked you a question!"

Tidus stood numbly for a moment, his hands shaking, yet there was no fear in him this time. "_Fine_ then," he burst out, "we won't go into your fucking secret room!"

Tidus ducked away from his father when he made a grab for him, and scrambled out of the house with Gippal as fast as he could run, which, thanks to his Blitz training, was pretty damn fast.

By the time they were safely two blocks away and doubled over in exhaustion, Gippal was laughing his ass off and kept clapping Tidus on the back every two seconds, saying generally unhelpful things like, "Man, he was so mad!" and "Did you see his _face_?"

But Tidus just felt furious. Why did his father have so many goddamn secrets? What was so important that he had to hide? _I __hate __him_, Tidus thought furiously. _I __**hate **__him._ He could feel his fists shaking, and the shards of the Sphere he had broken dug into his skin, drawing blood.

He ate dinner at Wakka and Lulu's that night, but when he came home, he and his father both acted as though nothing had happened.

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

As she lay in bed watching the hands of her _machina_ time-teller ticking away, Yuna began to doubt herself.

Just as Tidus had promised, Shelinda had gone to bed hours ago after performing her evening chores. Yuna had bid her goodnight with a too-bright smile, the very best she could conjure. _A __**false **__smile,_ she thought somewhat ruefully. She had never been deceitful, never wanted to be. _Perhaps __it __is __not __too __late __to __forget __all __of __this._It was not the first time that evening she had considered doing so.

But then she thought of Tidus, and all that trouble he had gone through for her.

Under her bedrobe she was fully dressed in her printed skirt, white wrap and snowy sleeves. It would be cool in the evening, she had guessed, it would be wise to dress warmly. When she thought that, she realised that she _would_ go now – there would be no turning back. And with that thought always came the littlest spark of excitement. _You've __waited __your __whole __life __to __see __this. __Be __strong, __like __father._

Auron had left earlier that evening. She could still recall his face as he stood tall and imposing in the doorway, heavy katana strapped over his shoulders. _He __was __troubled_, Yuna remembered. _And __with __reason._Yuna didn't want to think about how her father would react if he even suspected her little adventure.

She had barely spent a day apart from her father since she was a girl. Surely, she felt, he had always been with her. She thought she should be missing him terribly at this moment, but in truth she had hardly thought of him at all. Her stomach was pounding with butterflies.

Yuna descended the stairs without a sound, her footsteps falling like a feather upon soft down. She had learned to be light on her feet in her Sending training. _"How __are __the __spirits __going __to __hear __you __guiding __them __if __you __stomp __your __feet __so __loudly, __child?"_ Belgemine would always scold her, in that stern tone that Yuna had learned to love so well.

She missed Belgemine. She had been the nearest thing to a mother Yuna had ever known, and she would have welcomed a mother's insight at this time in her life… especially concerning certain new feelings that she was beginning to experience about a particular boy. It was all so confusing to her, as foreign as Zanarkand itself.

Blessedly, her boots were where she'd left them. As she tugged them on she reflected on her good luck at finding them untouched by Shelinda's neat hands. The maid was certainly tidy, though still a mystery to Yuna in many ways. She seemed by turns fearful and worshipful of her Yuna's father. It seemed to Yuna that if you respected or admired someone, it did not follow that you could possible fear them. And if someone truly instilled fear in you, how could you possibly admire them, aspire to be like them? What was it Tidus had said about Acolytes? That they were obedient, perhaps to the point of blindness? Yuna did not know if she would go so far, but they were certainly fickle.

After shrugging out of her silken night gown and tucking it carefully behind a chair, Yuna retrieved the little silver window key she had sought out the previous evening. It turned smoothly in the lock. Carefully she lifted the hinges, pulling the window open.

Instantly the cold night air surrounded her, caressing her cheeks and fanning honey-brown hair around her face. It was a pleasant feeling, and Yuna soaked in the sights and sounds of the Zanarkand evening with delight. And waited.

_Meet me in the garden when the lamp lights are lit…_

She did not have to wait for long. One by one they blinked on, bathing the streets in a striking orange glow. _Like__fireflies_, she thought, awed by the beauty of them. A quiet kind of courage rose up in her then, and in one quick movement she ducked through the open window and found herself outside.

By the time she was among the hibiscus, she could almost make out the strange outline of his Blitzball uniform behind the gate.

"Evenin' Yuna," he said, smiling, and her heart fluttered in her chest. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

_Why__… __what __is __the __matter __with __him?_ she thought suddenly, as she caught a clearer glimpse of his countenance for the first time. Usually a walking ray of sunshine, it disturbed her to see a sadness in those blue eyes tonight, a deep-rooted weariness such as she never thought Tidus would be capable of bearing.

"What's wrong?" she asked anxiously, before she could check herself.

"What? Nothing's wrong."

_He is __a __poor __liar_.

"Nothing's wrong, I promise!" he protested, seeing her wary look, "just forget about it." Smiling, he shook his head dismissively, his soft blond hair falling over his eyes. And somehow, seeing that smile, she did just that.

"Come on now, Yuna, just one more hurdle…"

She stared upwards. The black iron gates towered above, almost three times as tall as she was. Contrary to what Tidus may have thought, Yuna wasn't a complete stranger to climbing. Besaid had enough peaks and hills for even the most unquenchable adventurer. But her father had prevented her from ever setting her sights too high in that field. Not out of malice, to be sure, but out of a sort of fatherly concern that almost bordered on over-protectiveness. He had always been there to catch her. But now…

"It's not as bad as it looks," Tidus said to her silence, apparently reading her mind, "just take it one foothold at a time."

Beyond that gate awaited Zanarkand, she realized. Not her Zanarkand or her father's, but a Zanarkand that she had never seen. _Tidus' __Zanarkand._

So she took a first tentative step, then a second one. Though Tidus held the bars firmly in his fists to steady her, they seemed to ratte with each new foothold she made. _I __hope __Shelinda __isn't __a __light __sleeper_, Yuna thought anxiously.

Tidus watched her progress with attention, calling gentle encouragement to her as she ascended. As for Yuna, her courage rose with every foothold. Her concentration of course was well developed; it was an essential skill in the training of a Sender. But on reaching the top she felt it necessary to balance for a moment on one foot, and that was her mistake.

It was an awkward sort of fall, like the graceless tumble of a child not yet learnt to walk. Yuna felt her entire body go rigid in shock, and her arm-warmers very nearly caught on the black iron spikes.

"Oh!" was all she cried to warn him.

Somewhere between Tidus' "woah!" and the resounding crash of the iron gates, Yuna found herself with one boot on the ground, one leg propped up by Tidus' right arm, one hand curled tightly into his hair, his left arm holding her waist… so bizarrely were their arms and legs entangled that she could hardly keep track of where she ended and Tidus began. Frozen in such a shape, they would surely have been a sight worthy of some amusement to any passers by.

With racing hearts they stared in the direction of the house, watching for the lights that meant Shelinda had awoken. _Please, _Yuna prayed_, __please __don't __wake __up. __Oh, __let __me __have __this __one __night__…_

Her breath rang heavy in her ears, and her hand was tingling where Tidus had touched it.

But after a few minutes, to both Tidus and Yuna's relief and satisfaction, it became clear that the ex-Acolyte was indeed a heavy sleeper. Presently, the pair disentangled themselves from one another, one blushing with embarrassment, the other quite unperturbed.

"Close call," Tidus commented, as Yuna brushed off debris that wasn't there. "You okay, Yuna?"

Her nerves were so ablaze that all she could manage was the most timid of nods.

"Then," he said, "let's go meet Zanarkand."

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

It hadn't occurred to him until very late in his plans that he might have asked Gippal and Rikku to come along, and introduce his old friends to his new.

But somehow, he thought, he didn't want anyone else there. The thing was, no one else would _understand_. No one else would understand the look on Yuna's face when she saw her lights, how fervently she had longed to see them, how passionately she had described them to him.

Until he met Yuna he hadn't realised how apathetic the rest of the world, or _**his**_ world, atleast, had become. Zanarkanders now weren't excited by anything save Blitzball. Techonologies and _machina_, despite only being re-introduced in the last ten years, had become the norm, something people rarely kicked up a fuss about.

But Yuna… it amazed him sometimes, how she seemed so impressed by the littlest, insignificant things. And she was so open about her feelings, so easy to read. When she was happy, she was fiercly so, and when she was sad… well, she sure was sad.

_She __sure __wears __her __heart __on __her __sleeve,_he thought, watching her now. _I __wish __more __people __around __here __would._

The Zanarkand night sky shone a hazy blue and orange. Tidus and Yuna talked quietly to each other, reflecting proudly how neatly their plan had been carried out. In moments of silence Yuna seemed to content to walk alongside him and turn her gaze to the stars.

When he was younger he used to look at the stars with his old man as they walked back from the Blitzball together. One particular memory was almost painfully sharp in his mind. On a night when his father had seemed uncharacteristically dreamy, Tidus had remarked something about the stars being nothing but white dots in the sky.

_Boy,_ his father had said in that rough rasp of his, and had clipped Tidus on the ear, _don't __you __go __being __disrespectful. _Tidus remembered scowling at that. _Those __ain't __dots. Y__ou're __looking __at __another __Spira __right __there, __and __another __one __over __there, __and __there. __And __on __that __other __Spira __there's __a __guy __just __like __me __pointing __out __this __Spira __to __his __crybaby __kid._

Tidus had looked at the stars a little differently from then on. Back then, no matter how rocky their relationship might have been, he thought that between them there was still some semblance of… well, of love. An unspoken love maybe, a reserved and guarded love, but love nonetheless. Back then…

Back then was a long time ago, and since his father had returned from his 'journey', the stars had long since become white dots again.

Tidus had learned then if he was going to get anywhere in the world, he would have to get there without his old man's help. He started practicing Blitz in his own time, telling himself he trained because he loved Blitzball so much, not because he wanted to prove something to Jecht. Then, one year ago, all his training had paid off when he was accepted into the Zanarkand Abes, the most successful team in Spiran history.

When they passed the two grand stone statues at the gate, Yuna asked him who they were.

"That one on the right there is Durren, probably the best damn Blitz player that ever lived. And the guy on the left is Lord Ohalland," he informed her.

"Lord Ohalland was a Summoner from Kilika," said Yuna, apparently confused. "Were there two?"

"Nope, they're one and the same. Lord Ohalland was an awesome Blitzer before he was a Summoner – believe me, I've seen some of his old Spheres."

For some reason, Yuna seemed faintly amused by that. "A Blitzball player… and a Summoner?"

"That's right," he said distractedly, thinking more of what waited ahead. "Okay, Yuna. This is it. Close your eyes… take my hand."

She glanced at him for a moment, curious. But after a moment she placed her soft hand warm against his palm and allowed him to lead her.

The groundskeeper had left the entrance open for him, as he had asked. Tidus briefly wondered who was more nervous at that moment, he or Yuna. _Probably__Yuna,_ he thought, stifling laughter. Slowly he bent towards her and put his mouth to her ear; strands of her hair tickled his nose.

"Okay," he said softly, "open up."

He had timed it quite magnificently. The white lights of the stadium and Yuna's visage lit up almost simultaneously, and Tidus could not have said which was more beautiful.

"Oh, Tidus…" Her voice was wistful, and softer than Tidus could have believed. Lights surrounded them on all sides; blinding them, wrapping them in a crushing embrace. Before them, the great gaping hole of the dimantled Blitzball field surrounded by silver railing, and above nothing but the open sky. Yuna's hand rested over her heart, and her eyes seemed to shimmer in the white glow. Suddenly he thought she might cry, and grew uncomfortable at the thought.

Instead, she did the last thing he expected, and took off at a run.

Tidus bolted after her as she headed for the centre of the stadium, that yawning open field, that gaping emptiness. "Woah, hold your chocobos!"

When she reached the centre, she planted one boot, then another, on the lowest bar of the railing, wrapped her hands around the highest bar, and leaned low over the edge. Her head disappeared over the other side under a curtain of fine brown hair.

"Yuna!" he said in horror. He had done the same thing himself countless times – hung over the railing like an excited child - but for some reason it was quite a different situation when a girl like Yuna chose to do it. In an instant he understood why Lulu pulled him back all the time.

Reaching her, he gripped her arm and firmly jerked her back, his heart pounding.

"That's amazing!" she cried. "Amazing!" Her eyes sparkled with mirth above her wide smile, and she put her hands on his shoulders as he helped her climb down from the railing.

He kept a firm grip on her upper arm as his nerves settled, and this time she didn't even seem to notice. She had a nervous reaction at times, when he touched her. It made him wonder how much contact she had had with boys back on Besaid.

Tidus couldn't help but let loose a burst of nervous laughter as the last of his panic fled and have way to relief. After a moment she joined him, until they were both clutching their sides to stop from shaking.

"Here, Yuna," he said, when their laughter had finally subsided, grasping her by the shoulders and gently spinning her around. "Let me give you the proper tour. That's the _machina_ that lets the water out," he explained, pointing. "When the wheel turns, the energy gathers in the middle and creates the field. And there, look - the players stand around that platform while the field is being filled."

"So close…" she murmured in wonderment. "Doesn't the water hit you at all?"

"Yeah, it does," he grinned. "But it feels good."

She closed her eyes then, and Tidus wondered if she was imagining how it might feel. He hadn't known Yuna very long, but somehow it seemed the sort of thing she would do.

"I don't think I've ever felt so small," she commented in a faraway voice. She sounded so _sad_ that Tidus wondered if she meant more than what she said. The mirth that had glittered in her eyes just moments ago had dimmed.

He turned himself around to lean on the railing and casually crossed one leg over the other. "It's different when the stadium is full, Yuna. See all those benches? When they're filled with screaming Blitzball fans… you get so caught up in the moment. There are so many people that you just feel like… a part of _everything_. Like you're all one person." He smiled. "So… wanna pick a seat, Yuna? Yuna?"

When he saw the look on her face, he reflected happily that she probably hadn't even heard him.

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

In the end, she picked the highest seats in the whole stadium.

Tidus told her that when a game was playing, it was better to grab the lower seats since they gave you a clearer view of the players and all the intricacies of the moves. But for now he agreed with her that their current altitude provided 'one hell of a view', as he so delicately put. _I __feel __like __I __can __see __forever__…_

She wished her father could see it. Gods, she wished _everybody_ could see it.

They sat together telling each other stories for a very long time. She told him about Besaid, and he told her about Blitzball and the stadium and life in Zanarkand. Mostly Tidus talked and she listened, asking pointed questions when he paused for breath, which he seemed more than happy to answer.

"Then I tried out for the Abes about a year past, and I've been with them ever since," he finished, arms now stretched languorously behind his head.

"Do you have to do a lot of training?" she asked him, shyly.

He shrugged. "Depends on the time of year, I guess. But I mean, usually, yeah, we do. Wakka's got us all on the hop at the moment 'cause the Spiran Cup is about to start."

"Some of the boys on Besaid used to talk about that," she remembered. "The ones in our Blitzball team."

"The Besaid Aurochs, right?"

He chuckled at her reaction. "I looked them up when I got home," he explained. "Unfortunately they uhh… haven't been doing too well these past couple of years."

"I can quite believe it," Yuna told him. _Father __did __always __say __those __boys __had __more __confidence __than __sense. _"I think they spent more time boasting than practicing."

They laughed, and the little joke faded.

"So what about you, Yuna?" he asked, and she looked at him questioningly. "What do you do with your time?"

_So __then, __it __is __time __for __the __truth __to __out, __as __father __would __say._Yuna had pondered telling him up front for several days now, but in the end, decided to wait until he asked. "I'm a Sender."

"Wow…" he said, eyes widening, "You're like… a Summoner?"

"No," she smiled and shook her head. "Spira has no need of Summoners anymore, since Lord Braska defeated Sin and brought us the Eternal Calm. But when there was no longer a need for Summoners, I decided to serve Spira by learning the Sending, instead. _'The dead __still __need __guidance __to __reach __the __Farplane,'_" she quoted_,__"'or __spirits __linger __and __become __Fiends.'"_

"When I was twelve, I saw a woman perform a Sending in Luca. It's like a sort of… dance, isn't it? It was really… pretty."

"Mm," she inclined her head. "Many people say so, but it will never be beautiful to me. Even when I learned the dance from my instructor, and I was the one watching, I never thought so."

He leaned back in his seat. "Huh. I never thought of it like that. I guess it's a whole different Blitzgame for the people actually doing the Sending."

He seemed to muse wisely on this for a while. She broke the silence by asking "The Sending you saw. Was it a land ceremony, or a water ceremony, or…?"

"A water ceremony?" he interrupted, laughing. "How can you dance underwater? There's too much pressure."

"Not underwater, o_n_ the water," she corrected.

"You can _walk_ on _water_?" he exclaimed, sitting bolt upright.

"Yes, when the Sending requires it." Noticing his awed expression she added, "But it's no different from your holding your breath for a long time when you play Blitzball."

"It's completely different!" he protested. "Holding your breath is easy, once you get the hang of it – it just takes a few tricks. But walking on water? That's practically impossible!"

"Just like holding your breath for ten whole minutes seems impossible to me," she pointed out.

Tidus just shook his head in disbelief, his blue eyes so adorably confused that she felt a rush of affection for him. _I __may __know __little __about __his __world__… __but __he __knows __even __less __about __mine, __I __fear._

"When I perform the Sending," she explained patiently, "I have to concentrate not only on my purpose, but also on my moves, my rhythm, my balance, where to send my arms and legs…"

"Are you still talking about the Sending?" One of his dark eyebrows was raised, and his grin was playful, though she couldn't have said why.

"Yes," said Yuna, furrowing her brow. "What did you think I was talking about?"

"Never mind," he grinned, with a soft shake of his golden head. "You know, I think I know what you mean. When you play Blitzball, you have to… put your mind in two places at once. Kinda like… being asleep and awake at the same time."

Yuna could not help but love the sound of his voice. It was always warm, but with a mischievous, boyish edge that was just innocent enough to be charming. And he was so _confident_, too, as though he knew some secret that the rest of the world didn't.

"Exactly."

"Hey, could you teach me to walk on water? I bet Gippal's mouth would drop right open."

She giggled. "It would take a long time."

"Like, how long?" he asked casually, flashing her a smile that seemed to say 'try me.'

"Well, how long would it take for you to teach me to be an expert Blitzball player?"

"Huh. That long, huh?"

She smacked him on the arm, playfully, and was about to say she probably wouldn't make much of herself in Blitzball anyway, when the _machina_ on his wrist suddenly made a sound.

"I think your _machina_ is talking," she quipped. When he laughed in response, she almost blushed.

She liked everything about him, she realised. But then, it was difficult not to like him, and the very sunshine and laughter of him. _He __is __approachable, __confident, __and __yet, __somehow__… __childlike. __Everything __a __young __boy __ought __to __be._ And yet… somehow she wondered if her father would approve.

"Gods, Yuna! It's nearly morning," Tidus revealed, blue eyes wide. "We've talked all night!"

Yuna was delighted.

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

"You're yawning, Yuna!"

His tone was mock-accusatory, but he smiled fondly at her through his words. Her eyelashes fluttered tiredly, and her pace was slowing to a sluggish gait.

"I'm not…" she protested, yawning.

"This is no good," he scolded playfully. "You'll never fit in here if you snooze! Zanarkand never sleeps, remember?"

It was funny - he couldn't remember the last time he had felt this quietly comfortable, this at ease. Not even in the company of his closest friends. But then, he reflected, Yuna was quite unlike any of them; she was a better listener than Rikku, less unapproachable than Lulu, more trustworthy than Gippal and more perceptive of his moods than Wakka.

Infact, she had quite possibly the sweetest nature of anyone he had ever met. Almost… except…

"Do you think I can?"

"Can what?" he frowned. Her voice had been so small that he almost didn't hear her.

"Fit in."

She looked up at him then, and her expression was dismayed and distant and a hundred more emotions that he couldn't have listed if he had a thousand years to do it.

It was at that moment that he realised that all this - everything he had been doing - was no longer about indulging the whims of some lonely girl. It was no longer about feeling sympathy for her, about giving her someone to talk to, about making a pretty girl laugh. It was much bigger than that. _This __sadness __has __to __stop._

And with that thought came a sudden impulse. Tidus brought his arms up and grasped her shoulders, stopping her in the street.

"You definitely can, Yuna," he told her firmly. _I'll __make __sure __of __it._

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER: Yuna sees her first Blitzball game, but there's no Tidus to see that she gets there.**

THIS CHAPTER – I was disappointed with the Tidus and Gippal scene, it was very rushed and just didn't flow at all. The chapter as a whole was the longest yet… it was going to be even longer, but I decided to cut an unfinished bit off the end for the sake of finally posting this. It was also a very quiet, uneventful sort of chapter, I'm sure you noticed. But they need to figure each other out before their relationship can develop.


	6. Chapter 5: Waking Dreams

"To Cosette it seemed that Marius wore a crown, and to Marius Cosette bore a halo."

_- Book Eight: Enchantment and Despair, I: Broad Daylight_

**_Les Misérables – Victor Hugo_**

**CHAPTER FIVE: Waking Dreams**

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

"It's an hibiscus flower," she told him, when he asked. "It only blooms at night."

He watched her pat the earth with tiny motions of her fingertips and wondered faintly why he was asking some girl about the name of a flower instead of going to Blitzball practise.

Tidus had never been inclined towards religion. Before the Eternal Calm, he had prayed to Yu Yevon with his mother in little sessions of devotion and gentle singing that he locked deep in his memory. When his mother died, he had stopped believing in much of anything, be it gods, stars, or a love that was unbreakable.

Later, concerned by his lack of faith, Lulu and Wakka had tried hard to encourage him to return to the temples. By then, of course, it was too late – the Al Bhed philosophies of Rikku and Gippal had already burrowed beneath his skin - philosophies which involved less effort, less trust, and less heartbreak.

No, he had never invested belief in the kindness of Gods, in benevolent spirits, nor even in the simple goodness of a human being. Yet he thought that if he'd ever seen anything that came close to any, it was Yuna.

She looked almost saintly sitting there, treating every one of her flowers with the same care a mother might bestow upon their child. Her bare feet were entangled in the green grass, skirts fanned around her in blue splendour. Tidus had never seen anything half so innocent.

Somehow, it comforted him.

"They only show themselves at night, huh?" he heard himself say, indulging her. "Kinda like Zanarkand?"

Yuna smiled, a little amused smile that curled the corners of her lips upwards.

"Kind-a," she said, her eyes sparkling at him. "But… to me, Zanarkand is always in bloom. Even in the day." She blushed when she said it, shy doing even that. _When is she ever not shy?_ he asked himself, not without fondness.

Yet even as the words settled in his mind, a brief memory of her surfaced; Yuna leaning over a piece of railing on a starry blue night, wild, thoughtless, her unbound hair falling over her face.

"'Always in bloom,'" he quoted. "Do you always see the world that way?" It was meant to tease, but when she turned her eyes to the ground, he saw that he had missed the mark.

"Not always," she said softly.

Tidus shifted closer to the gate, studying her face turned uncharacteristically solemn. He remembered their conversation the night before. "Why not, Yuna?" he prompted gently. "Your old man?"

"No," said Yuna, shaking her russet head. "My father… brings me lots of happiness."

Tidus couldn't tell if she was lying or not, but somehow he didn't think lying was in Yuna's veins. He let them lapse into silence for a while, waiting for her to talk. When she didn't, he thought _I should go to Blitz practise_.

"Yuna-"

"You should come," she interrupted. Bravely she smiled, but even he could tell that her heart was not in it. "Tonight," she clarified. "To watch the flowers bloom."

_Flowers._ Tidus, very aware that she was changing the subject, and rather grateful for it, wondered what Gippal would say about that. But the truth was he had other plans.

"Yuna, I can't. I have a game tonight."

"Oh." Hurt bloomed on her face, though she tried hard to hide it. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He had to grin - he couldn't help it. "You're coming."

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

As starlight plucked open the petals of her hibiscus flowers, Yuna sat alone in by her garden gate and wondered if she was in danger with this Zanarkand boy.

What am I to him? she agonized. It was a question she had been asking herself more and more often of late. He had come, a burst of laughter into the quiet of her life, and begun to mean so much to her in so short a time that she worried for herself. _He sits outside with his laughs and his smiles, but he has a whole life out there that I don't know about, _Yuna reminded herself. _What if I'm only a girl in a garden somewhere, who he meets on his way to Blitzball games?_

It was a discouraging thought, and it clawed desperately at her even as she awaited his next visit. _I'll come get you when the lamp lights are lit,_ he had promised, ignoring her protests. _Don't sweat it, Yuna. It'll be a blast._

And so silently and with a world of patience, Yuna had placed her hope in each passerby, hoping every moment to hear the crunch of his yellow sneakers, to see the gleam of his golden-blonde hair or the strange cut of his Blitzball uniform. But by the time the sun had sunken and the night was blue, Yuna had misplaced that hope twenty times or more. _Could it be that he's forgotten?_ she wondered.

Sighing, Yuna rested her head against the garden gate, snaking her arms around herself in an attempt to evade the evening's chill. _When the lamp lights are lit, he'll come. _Minutes passed, and her eyelids fluttered. _He has a whole life that I don't know about, _she thought again, but the words tumbled through her mind like grains of sand.

Her thoughts wandered, teetering on the brink of sleep.

Somewhere Yuna waded deep into the centre of a silver pool, tracing the ripples with her fingertips. Tidus was waiting for her there, so beautiful that she thought her heart would burst. But when she waded towards him she saw that he wasn't really Tidus at all, that his hair was as dark as midnight, as dark as her own. His eyes were sadder than she could have believed and as he bent towards her she knew he would tell her that—

"Hey there! _Hey!_ Can't watch Blitzball with your eyes closed!"

Yuna's eyes snapped open. She almost cried out in alarm before she realised her intruder was less than five foot tall, and not the threatening type. Rather, a small girl blinked through the iron gate at her, cute in her curiousity.

Yuna stumbled to her feet ungracefully, her body heavy with drowsiness.

"I'm Rikku!" the girl blundered on, with a voice so loud that Yuna feared Shelinda might wake. Yuna tried desperately to collect her thoughts – any thoughts. _What time is it? _Rikku the stranger grinned and grinned and her eyes swirled green. Yuna had only time to wonder briefly _an Al Bhed?_ before the younger girl snaked an arm through the bars between them, holding her hand face up like an expectant child. "Put her there!"

_She must want money,_ Yuna realised. _Are the Al Bhed so poor here? _Shestared at the proffered palm tentatively. "I'm so sorry," she apologised. "I don't…"

"Oh boy! You really aren't from around here, are you?" Rikku cocked her head and tapped a fingertip on her chin. "Well, Tidus did warn me to be gentle."

"Tidus sent you?" Yuna blurted. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "I don't understand. Who are you?"

"Don't you remember me? I saw you in the street that time." She giggled, biting her lip. "I remember 'cause your cheeks turned so red!"

Yuna blushed at that, as though to colour herself guilty. Frantically, she searched her memories of that day in the alleyway. It was difficult to remember anything but _him_, but somewhere in the back of her mind a young girl's voice called out to her.

"Wakka wouldn't let Tidus go after practise," Rikku was telling her. "They had a last minute strategy meeting. So he sent me to come getcha, instead!"

Yuna found herself torn between anxiety and amazement at this revelation. Anxiety that he was not here to reassure her, and amazement that he had sent a friend to meet her finally. Did this mean she was finally important enough for his friends to know about?

For the first time, Yuna smiled at her new companion – she had to admit, the young girl's vivacity was something infectious. And her voice was so full of sunshine, her hair even more so, that Yuna could have mistaken her for Tidus' sister. Of course, Tidus had never mentioned a sister. But then… _He has a whole life that you don't know about._

"Thankyou, Rikku," she said, as warmly as she could. The Zanarkand name sounded strange on her tongue. "Please forgive my rudeness." Then she added, almost as an afterthought, "… Bmaycat du saad oui."

As soon as she said it, Yuna felt strangely pleased at the shock in Rikku's green eyes. It was nice to know she was still capable of being the one who surprised others from time to time, and not the other way around.

"Heyyy! You can speak Al Bhed!"

Yuna gave a little laugh. "Only a few words, you know? My father taught me."

"Well, you're pretty good!"

"Oh, I'm not," Yuna insisted. "My accent is a horror."

"Hey, if I say you're pretty good, then you're pretty good, okay?"

"Um, okay."

"Good. I _am_ the expert after all!" Rikku flashed her a toothy smile, then appraised her outfit, smiling. "Your clothes are so pretty! Though they kinda make you look like an Acolyte. You're not an Acolyte, are you?"

"A Sender," Yuna offered, amused.

"_Really? _Do you guys have to wear that stuff all the time?"

"Well," said Yuna, hesitantly. "No. I suppose not. It's just… tradition." In truth, Yuna had never given thought to dressing any other way. Ever since she was a little girl, she had tried to copy her teacher, Belgemine's, style of dress. Everything was chosen carefully for the Sending. The sweeping sleeves Yuna wore were more for balance than for beauty, and the slit in her skirt was only long enough to give her room for freedom of movement in the Dance.

Rikku's values in that area, she suspected, were a little different. Modesty certainly was not one of them. The Al Bhed had always been a highly unconventional race, but back in Besaid their style of clothing might have been considered scandalous. Rikku's green shorts barely reached halfway down her thighs!

"I'll find you something new," Rikku promised, apparently misreading Yuna's uneasy facial expression. "Something cool."

Yuna didn't argue with her, but horror swept through her mind at the thought of being forced to bear so much skin. Not for the first time, she wished Tidus were here. His friend Rikku was charming, but she didn't seem to understand Yuna's situation entirely.

In that sense, it was not surprising that Yuna followed her to the Blitzball stadium tremendously ill at ease. Yet if there was awkwardness in the air, Rikku certainly did not seem to feel it. Yuna suspected that all such feelings simply bounced off the young girl's shiny exterior. The Al Bhed skipped along, childlike, bombarding Yuna with constant questions. Yuna just wanted to talk about Tidus.

"How did you meet him?" Rikku wanted to know as they walked. "Was it that time we saw you in A-East?"

"He didn't tell you?" Yuna asked, brow wrinkling.

"Are you kidding? I didn't know anything about you 'til tonight. And Wakka's been asking why he's been late for Blitzball practise for weeks. You're his big secret."

Yuna didn't know what that meant. She was unsure whether she should be pleased or not. Was he embarrassed about their friendship? Or was she just not important enough to be a topic of conversation? She hoped neither.

Nevertheless, Yuna was pleased at finding an opportunity to finally share her adventures in Zanarkand. So she told Rikku about the day that Tidus had passed by her garden and all the days since, though she left out the night at the Blitzball Stadium, as well as other details that she kept so close to her heart - the way his smile so often affected her own, the way his golden hair had felt the day she fell from the garden gate. By the time the two girls reached the statue of Lord Ohalland, Yuna learned that Rikku, given the chance, could be as good a listener as she was a talker.

Yuna learned something else on reaching Lord Ohalland, which was the sheer popularity of Blitzball in the city. _Zanarkand was built on Blitzball, _Tidus had told her once, but she had never fully understood the truth of that statement until now. Only moments after entering the arena, she and Rikku could scarcely move in a great sea of Zanarkanders, and had to employ hands and elbows and more in order to move at all.

Yuna's eyes were opened for the first time. The chaos of the city had seemed little more than intriguing when hanging on the arm of her father, and inviting when she thought of going with Tidus. But now…

Somehow Rikku managed to reach above the heads and point out to Yuna the banners showings the symbols of the respective teams. The Zanarkand Abes had a wicked-looking triangular symbol and the opposing team fashioned some sort of slender seabird, poised to dive.

Pulling her through the crowds with an unnerving show of strength for someone her size, Rikku gestured towards a merchant stall selling some sort of strange blue liquid.

"It's for energy," Rikku explained. "Want some?"

"I'll be sick," Yuna protested.

She was forced to wait on the sidelines while Rikku barked some Al-Bhed words at the merchant, seemingly trying to barter down the price. Yuna took the opportunity to gauge her new surroundings. Despite every fear, every misgiving, she felt that a new kind of emotion was beginning to soak into her. Bodies brushed by her, trying to pull her resistant form into the throng. Limbs pressed against limbs, skin pushed against skin, sweat and perfume and the smell of foreign food twined together until Yuna felt hopelessly and exquisitely lost. She closed her eyes and for a brief moment she was not herself; she was one of them, she was like him, a real Zanarkander.

When her eyes snapped open again there was a wall of strangers around her. _Where's Rikku?_ she wondered. She found to her dismay that the Al Bhed stall was no longer in sight. Keeping her forearms raised to protect herself, Yuna tried to manoeuvre her way to the place she had last seen the little Al Bhed. Yuna tried calling out but it had no more effect than taking a breath in the din. _How_ _could you let this happen again? _she chided herself. She tried to bring her fingers to her mouth to whistle, even though she knew it was a foolish idea; Tidus wasn't even here. Instead, she was jerked backwards as a large, booming voice from the tannoy announced the beginning of the game.

The crowd surged forward in excitement, animalistic, and Yuna and several others were knocked roughly to the ground as Blitzball fans poured over them in a wild rush towards the stadium.

"Rikku?" Yuna called again, struggling to her feet with some difficulty.

Just then a strong hand took hold of her upper arm and in one effortless movement hauled her to her feet. Yuna froze at the touch, remembering the warnings Tidus had once given her in an alleyway.

"Hey, hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," a boy's voice said in amused tones. "Did you just say Rikku?"

Yuna blinked up into his face. A handsome face, with a self-assured voice that seemed to fit. His hair was the same style as Tidus', gold and spiky. Yet what drew her eye the most was his studded black eyepatch, though somehow that seemed as fashionable as the rest of him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well? Do you speak? I said, were you looking for Rikku?"

"Rikku," Yuna repeated, stupidly. "Yes. I was looking for Rikku."

"Which means you'll be sitting up in the West block with the rest of Tidus' buddies, am I correct?"

"Oh!" Yuna said. She felt like she might collapse with relief. "Yes, that's right! We were going to watch the Blitzball together."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm Yuna," she said helpfully.

"Gippal," he said, looking at her as though she was crazy. People were still roughly bulling past them, but it was Gippal who took the full force of the swarm as he kept an arm around her shoulders.

"Are you one of Tidus' friends?" she asked him.

"His role model," the boy answered distractedly. "Listen, why don't we chat later… for now, let's just see if we can get you to your seat without someone stepping on you first." He glanced impatiently at a machina contraption tied to his wrist. "And in time for the game, shit! We have about two minutes. Let's go!"

* * *

To Yuna's surprise and delight, Rikku was already there, waiting to throw her arms tightly around Yuna's neck. The hug Yuna gave her in return was timid, to say the least - closeness with strangers was still a foreign thing to her – but she was glad Rikku was there, all the same.

"I'm so sorry, Rikku," she apologised, as she disentangled herself from the Al Bhed girl. "One minute you were there, and the next-"

"Oh Yuna, do you think I care?" blurted the Al Bhed girl. "I'm just happy you're okay!"

"I think Lady Yuna needs a babysitter," muttered Gippal from the sidelines. Yuna felt stung and ashamed at the same time, not knowing quite what she wanted to say, but Rikku came to her rescue.

"Don't be like that!" she admonished the taller boy, waving a finger in his face. "She's never been to Zanarkand before, okay?"

"Would never have guessed…" he said dryly, and turned around to watch the stadium.

Yuna followed his gaze, and found that she could hardly recognise the Blitzball field. Tidus' words filled her head, a gentle reminder. _See all those benches?_ he had told her, that night under the stars. _When they're filled with screaming Blitzball fans… you get so caught up in the moment. There are so many people that you just feel like a part of everything. Like you're all one person._

The fond memory was shattered when Rikku thrust something at her. A robe of some kind?

"What's this?" Yuna asked her.

"A Zanarkand Abes tshirt! Got it for ya at the stalls."

Yuna took it from Rikku's hands. It looked very pretty at first glance, as her fingers smoothed over its layers of white and rose and yellow, but there was something strange about the sleeves.

"How do I put my arm through this?"

"You don't, silly!" giggled Rikku. "That's the front, see? With the Abes symbol."

Yuna swallowed uneasily.

"Hey Yuna," said Rikku, with an unashamed tug to her sleeve. "There's someone else you've gotta meet. This is Lulu."

It was only then that Yuna realised that they were no longer alone in their suite of seats. Lulu stepped forward – a tall, voluptuous woman with a fall of jet black hair and an elegant dress that reminded Yuna of some of the old Mages of Besaid. And underneath a serious façade, she could also sense a great strength and compassion in this woman. It made her feel comforted in a way that she had not felt when meeting Rikku or indeed, Gippal.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Yuna," said Lulu, reaching out to shake her hand gently. "I once guarded a summoner from your Isle, Lady Ginnem. She spoke to me of Besaid often."

"You were a Guardian?" Yuna asked, astonished. She had never known Lady Ginnem, but the regal woman standing in front of her certainly had the airs and graces of a Guardian. "I'm most honoured to meet you, my Lady," Yuna said, bowing to her in the proper fashion, causing Rikku and Gippal to exchange glances.

Lulu dismissed her with a wave. "No, Yuna, I don't deserve the title. That journey failed, as did all my others."

For words so strong, Yuna was troubled by the lack of expression on Lulu's beautiful face. It was a face which belied nothing – a face which Yuna herself had been taught to wear long ago. She frowned, and opened her mouth to say something when an ear-splitting roar suddenly erupted from all around her. Lights brighter than Yuna could believe flashed on, bathing the Stadium in an unearthly glow.

For an instant, she found herself blinded.

When the white fog cleared before her eyes, everything seemed to happen at once. A man's voice filled the stadium - louder than Rikku's had ever dreamed of – and a cacophony of _machina_ squirmed into place in the centre of the field. Water came gushing in so violently that Yuna feared it would break from its bounds and drown them all. _Tidus warned me it would be like this, but I never thought, I never imagined, I never dreamed… _She could barely hear her own thoughts over the screams and cheers and her own thudding heartbeat. The noise was so exquisite that she thought her ears might burst from the force of it.

And then came the announcement of the Zanarkand Abes. The screams grew even louder, if that were possible, as the grand digital screens _flashed_ on and the Blitzers took position.

Immediately Yuna noticed the screen that featured only _him_. A wave of emotions swept over her at seeing his familiar face – relief, longing, and she could not have said what else. Yet the boy on the screen was a far cry from the boy that Yuna knew – he seemed foreign somehow, more unapproachable. His easy smile was gone; a look of deep concentration replaced it. Beside her, Rikku whooped and shouted out his name.

The game was all but impossible to follow. Yuna only had a brief understanding of the rules, passed on from Tidus, but her eyes darted from player to player in terrible confusion. It was all she could do to keep her focus on Tidus.

It was so… brutal. She never thought it would be like that. Her father would have called her foolish for thinking so, but how could she have known? She was never allowed to watch the games in her girlhood. And somehow she thought that the boys in Besaid had never played so violently as this. _No doubt their mothers would put them over their knees if they came home with as many bruises_.

If she had thought Tidus would stay out of all the brutality, she was wrong. On the contrary, he always seemed in the thick of the action, quick as lightening, throwing his share of strikes and blows, stealing and somersaulting and diving between players.

One particularly brutal strike by the opposing team sent him reeling back into the water, spinning, and Yuna jerked forward in fear. She watched as he shook his head, disorientated. Her hand clutched Rikku's arm involuntarily. "Will he be okay?" she asked shakily.

It was Gippal that leaned in close to answer. "No worries, my Lady. Tidus gives as good as he gets. Watch."

True to his word, a few seconds later, the offending player had been pushed violently out of the pool and into the stands. And in the place he had occupied – Tidus, suspended in the water, smiling wickedly. Under his arm the blitzball was tucked neatly, looking as though it had finally returned to its rightful place. He was, quite clearly, a natural.

By the end of the match, all her qualms about the game being 'brutal' had dissipated into thin air, and she was shouting things as bad as the rest of them. Even Gippal looked at her askance when she shouted something particularly nasty at someone who had just elbowed Tidus in the chest.

Yuna was half a world away from the beaches of Besaid and she felt shy and lonely and exhilarated all at once.

The arrival of Tidus did not improve Yuna's post-Blitzball daze. When they finally stumbled upon him he was patting dry his tousled golden-blonde hair while beads of water dripped from his face. He was also wearing a silver earring that she had never seen before, and it glittered beneath the orange lights.

"Gods, Yuna!" was the first thing he said when he reached her. "What happened to you?" He took her by the shoulders and inspected the bruises on her arms, looking at her with visible concern. But all Yuna could do was stare dazedly beyond him, grinning like a fool.

"That was the most fun I have ever had in my entire life," she told him breathlessly, and had never been so happy to hear his returning warm laughter flooding through her.

Gippal had raised an eyebrow in Tidus' direction, she noticed, an eyebrow that said 'is she for real?', but Yuna was so dizzy with happiness that she could not bring herself to care.

Lulu came forward, her hand resting lightly on the arm of a man Yuna had sometimes seen with Tidus. His hair was as red and unruly as a wild flame dancing in the fires of Besaid, and his grin was large enough to rival Rikku's. "Yuna," said Lulu. "May I present Wakka to you. My husband."

Yuna liked him instantly. She shook Wakka's hand and nodded her head vigorously to the sound of him asking if she had enjoyed the game. She had to admit that he and Lulu seemed an odd sort of couple – though she would not dare to remark on such a thing.

"Come on guys, let's get out of here," said Tidus, amusement still evident in his voice. "I think Yuna might need some air."

Once they were out of earshot of the others, Tidus was quick to apologise for his absence. "I'm real sorry, Yuna. I couldn't find a way out of it. I hope Rikku didn't scare you." He put his hand on her shoulder apologetically, and Yuna was so pleased at the touch that she couldn't even bring herself to pretend to be angry.

"The game was so short," she gushed. "Did it feel short to you? I never thought it would be like that! Did the water spray you, like you said? Before the game, I mean?" She could not seem to stop talking. "You were amazing! And that awful boy that hurt your leg! How does it feel?"

"I'm fine, Yuna." His eyes sparkled at her. "I've had worse."

"Did you see us? Could you see us from where you were?"

"Actually," he said casually, "I was too busy looking at the pretty girl sitting in west block A."

"Oh."

It was all Yuna could think to say. A sudden sense of something close to despair welled up inside her. _Of course he would be looking at the other girls… what's wrong with me?_ Despite herself, Yuna pulled away from him the slightest bit. "Who… I mean… who was she?"

There was a terrible pause. They walked on side by side, Yuna's heart thudding in her chest. But when he answered his voice was soft, a serious contrast with the boyish smile he wore.

"I was talking about you, Yuna."

She stopped so abruptly that Gippal walked into her back with a curse.

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

Tidus released a yawn worthy of a sleepy lion, stretching his arms and torso to their limit. _Nothing like a good game._ He was pleased with tonight's results, and so was Wakka. The path to the Blitz Tournament Final had never looked clearer.

"What are we going to do now?"

Tidus looked down at the owner of the soft, quiet voice – the southern girl at his side. It had taken all his strength to put thoughts of her aside and concentrate on the game. In retrospect, sending Rikku hadn't been his best idea ever – Lulu might have been more discreet.

"Go have fun," he told her.

"But, it's past midnight." The expression she bore was so genuinely distressed that he had to laugh. Yuna had been surprising him since the day he first met her, but it was always in the sweetest, most innocent of ways. It was kind of adorable, actually.

"No problem!" he winked at her. "Zanarkand never sleeps!"

"Let's go to Silverwings for drinks, Tidus is buying!" Gippal called out.

Tidus opened his mouth to tell Gippal exactly what he thought of that idea, but Rikku got there first. "No, that's boring!" She stuck her tongue out at Gippal, who promptly rolled his eyes.

"How about we ask Yuna what she wants to do," Lulu said meaningfully, causing Rikku and Gippal to blush simultaneously.

"No, please don't let me ruin your plans," Yuna protested modestly.

"Not at all, Yuna," Tidus told her. An idea came to him. "There's a nice spot at the harbour. I think you'd like it. We could stay until sunrise."

"I would like that," smiled Yuna shyly.

"Sounds wonderful," Lulu put in. "It's nice to have some new company for a change, Yuna. The boys usually outnumber us three to one, and the Gods know we're all fed up of watching Tidus and Gippal drink themselves silly at Silverwings." She slipped her arm through Yuna's, and they walked along like two ladies at a ball. Rikku ran to catch up with them, giddy as a schoolgirl.

Wakka started after them too, but not before he nudged Tidus in the side with a significant glance in Yuna's direction.

Gippal came up beside him and grinned too. "She's cute," he smirked. "Weird, but cute."

"Don't get any ideas," Tidus said quickly.

Gippal quirked an eyebrow and Tidus found himself wishing he could eat his words. He had not meant for his voice to be so rough.

"Is that right? Well just for that, _Ti_, I'm gonna _have_ to put the moves on her," he said evilly, and whisked away before Tidus could say anything else.

_He's not her type,_ Tidus thought, glaring at the Al Bhed's retreating back. Yuna seemed so fragile sometimes, and the truth was… he didn't want to see her break.

He sat close to her for the rest of the night, an apology for breaking his promise to fetch her. Of course, if it happened that he liked sitting by her more so than the others, it was pure coincidence.

His friends talked noisily and feverishly, their conversation punctuated with loud bursts of raucous laughter and high-pitched exclamations from Rikku and Wakka. It was a sharp contrast from the quiet intimacy of his conversation with Yuna. She, of course, was content to sit and listen unless directly addressed, her cheeks flushed in the light of the crackling red fire that Wakka had started for them.

"So like… what did you do for fun in Besaid, Yunie?"

Rikku never failed to amaze Tidus. She'd known Yuna for one day and already she'd manufactured a nickname for her. If nothing else though, it made Yuna smile, and that was a thing worth seeing.

"Well…" Yuna began, averting her eyes shyly, "We told stories, and songs. There was dancing, too."

Gippal pulled a face which Tidus hoped Yuna didn't notice.

Rikku said, "Songs huh? You mean concerts, and stuff? Not like… sitting round a campfire singing songs kinda stuff?"

The awkward silence was enough to let even Rikku know that she'd hit the mark.

"I know what you mean by 'concert'," Yuna said patiently, "but… in Besaid, there is nowhere big enough to host such a thing." She smiled apologetically.

Tidus' voice came in gentle. "Are there songs about Zanarkand?"

"Of course!" she said instantly, her face brightening. "Those were my…" she blushed prettily, "my favourite."

Sometimes Yuna felt like something out of a song herself. _She's beautiful, and she doesn't even seem to know it, _he thought, which was more than he could say for some other girls he knew.

Everything about her was a lyric, infinitely feminine. The honey-coloured hair, the porcelain white skin, the big, innocent eyes. And yet there was something of a lament in her song, something tragic and untouchable. There was always a measure of sadness in her smile.

Wakka spoke up. "So you gonna sing us one?"

Yuna looked terrified. "Oh no, I couldn't!"

"Come on," Tidus coaxed. He knew how new this was for her, knew how scared she was, but he had vowed to break her out of her shell, and he was determined to see it through. "You do it back home, why not here?"

Rikku nodded excitedly, while Gippal looked disinterested until Tidus elbowed him in the side sharply.

"Why not?" the Al Bhed boy shrugged eventually, with less expression on his face than a fence post.

"Well, perhaps one verse," said Yuna uncertainly. But still she hesitated.

"Close your eyes," said Tidus, beside her, "If it helps."

She did.

The Zanarkand song was romanticised, of course. Yuna's crystal clear voice sang of the lights and laughter of Zanarkand, of the peaks of its clouds and the depths of its oceans, but never touched upon the city slums in C-south, or the dark back-alleys of A-East where the street thieves lingered.

The words were meant to flatter and enchant, yet Tidus did not doubt that Yuna believed every single word.

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

"That was very beautiful, Yuna," said Lulu, who had her arms folder lightly in her lap. Yuna looked down bashfully and felt a wave of gratitude towards the older woman.

"Oh Yunie," put in Rikku dreamily. "I have to take you to a Lenne concert someday. She has lots of stories in her songs too. I bet you'd really like her."

A synchronized groan went round the group. Even Lulu rolled her red eyes.

"Whaaaat?" exclaimed Rikku, in offended tones. "Lenne's really good – her last Sphere went platinum, you know!"

"That's 'cause you bought them all, Rikku," Tidus deadpanned.

"_What can I do for you_," she began to sing, until Gippal clamped a hand over her mouth and the rest became a mumble.

"Lenne makes noise, not music, Yuna," he said, "and you seem to like lyrics that actually mean something."

It was the first compliment Gippal had given her, and Yuna did not know quite what to say. When Rikku slapped his hand away with a sour face, she couldn't help but giggle.

"I'd love to go to a Lenne concert with you one day, Rikku," she told her gently. Despite earlier misgivings, she had taken a shine to the bubbly young Al Bhed.

Rikku stuck her tongue out at Gippal, and got a disdainful look for her troubles.

In the laughter that resounded, Yuna took the opportunity to look around at her new friends. The first signs of sunlight began to flicker on the horizon, bathing their faces in a sweet golden glow. Something inside her was changing; she could feel it as surely as she felt Tidus' warmth as he sat at her side, so close. _In Besaid I closed my eyes when I sang,_ she remembered. _Because when I closed my eyes, I was in Zanarkand. _

_But that was only a dream. And now, I'm here._


	7. Chapter 6: The Sending

* * *

"Eternal Mother Nature obscurely warned Jean Valjean of the approach of Marius, and he trembled in the depths of his mind."

_Book Three: The House in the Rue Plumet, VII: Sickness and added sadness_

_**Les Misérables – Victor Hugo**_

* * *

CHAPTER SIX: The Sending

--

_**Yuna**_

--

Her head was still full of fantasies when she finally collapsed on her bed, utterly spent. Outside Zanarkand was stirring, the sun spilling through her window and casting rose-coloured light upon her face. Yuna blinked sleepily under the warmth of its rays, her eyelids fluttering weakly, a thousand-and-one thoughts in her. She could still hear the roar of the crowd at the stadium, see the glint of Rikku's green eyes, feel Tidus sitting so close. She marvelled at the change in herself, her _world_, and wondered how much longer she dare hope it could last.

They had all offered to walk her home, but in the end it was Tidus who insisted upon the 'honour', making her blush terribly with his choice of words. "You guys need your beauty sleep more than me and Yuna," he'd teased, before boasting that the two of them were as sleepless as the city. Yuna found her goodbye to him at the garden gate more painful than ever before. Somehow she had found the strength to leave him… and yet, here she was, still thinking of his warm smile.

Vaguely, she realised that she should change her clothes before Shelinda came to wake her, but gathering the energy required to do so seemed beyond her. The soft woolen blankets beneath her seemed to draw her into them; Yuna yielded all too willingly. Sighing languidly, she curled her fingers into the fabric and let her eyes slide shut.

"You're awake early this morning."

Her eyes snapped open to see her father's tall profile filling her doorway, a strange soft smile marking a contrast with his weary stance.

"Father?" she murmured. She passed a hand across her eyes, wiping the sleep-dust from them. When her vision finally focused, he was standing before her.

"Are you well?" she asked him worridly. She had never seen him look quite so fatigued; on the contrary, he often seemed healthier and more capable than boys half his age.

"I am quite well," he assured her, kissing her forehead tenderly.

"How was your journey?"

"It was… educational." Seemingly that was all the answer he intended to give, but Yuna remained unfazed, accustomed to his secrets. The bed creaked as he took his place beside her. "I'm grateful that you rose early, Yuna. I didn't want to wake you."

She looked up at him curiously, a question in her eyes.

Her father smiled. "I've organised your first Sending."

"A Sending?" she repeated. The first unbidden thought that rushed through her was _but I haven't slept! _The guilt followed soon after.

"Who is it?" she asked her father softly.

"A young lady who died of childbirth." His voice was serious now, and the small smile was gone. Yuna answered his request with a firm incline of her head, determination spreading like fire through her veins. _Belgemine prepared me for this. I am ready to do this, on my own. _

"When shall we leave?"

"Soon." The corners of her father's mouth curled upwards. "But not yet. First, I have a gift for you."

Yuna smiled despite herself. "A gift?"

He left the room and returned with a mysterious wicker basket, placing it into her hands with surprising gentleness. Yuna, rarely seeing her father in such a tender display, made sure to open the lid with equal care and was rewarded with the soft mewing of the tiniest kitten she had ever seen.

"Oh!" she said, the small syllable expressing all. Involuntarily her hand snaked into the basket and a finger stroked the softer-than-down fur. The kitten was scrawny – not well fed and fashioning a ragged left ear, but its subtle blue fur seemed to shimmer when the sunlight fell upon it.

"We found him still guarding his former master beside a grave," her father explained. "Be careful; he hissed at first when we came close."

"Poor thing," murmured Yuna, more to the kitten than to her father._ I know what it is like to face strangers. _He may have guarded against the soldiers who saved him, but he seemed perfectly docile under her fingers. _You are not so fierce. Just frightened._ "I can take care of him."

"I thought you might say that," said her father, smiling. "I fear you are robbed of the pleasure of naming him, however. We called him 'Kimahri' and it seemed to stick. It means 'Guardian' in the old tongue."

"Kimahri," Yuna mused, delighted. "That's just right."

* * *

--

_**Tidus**_

--

"I like her, Tidus."

It was the third time that Lulu had made such an observation. They were gathered in the kitchen – an inevitable settling place when himself and Gippal were present – awaiting Wakka's famous "Blitzer's breakfast" before heading to practise. Lulu, ever an early riser despite their late-night escapades, had joined them and the topic of conversation had inevitably turned to the quiet young Sender who had blessed them with her company the evening past.

"She's a nice, well-mannered girl," continued Lulu. "Just the type you need. Not one of your ridiculous fangirls who kisses your feet so she can parade you about on her arm and be the talk of the city."

Tidus scowled. "I don't date girls like that."

"Course you don't, Ti," said Gippal distractedly, clapping him on the shoulder.

"I don't!" he said impatiently. "Anyway, it's not like that between me and Yuna. She's just a friend I'm helping out."

"I see. And when will we have the pleasure of seeing your _friend_ again?" asked Lulu.

"I dunno," said Tidus, his mouth twisting with sudden annoyance. "Her old man is at home." The prospect of not being able to see Yuna outside of her garden irritated Tidus. At one time, it had been enough just to sit near her, separated by an iron gate. But now…

"You haven't met her old man yet?" interrupted Wakka.

Tidus rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. _Why do we always end up talking about someone's old man? _It wasn't really a subject he was in the mood for. "Sorta," he said vaguely.

"Which _means_?" pressed Lulu, with that slightly impatient look in her red eyes.

"Well I uh… saw him from a distance once. Big guy. Sunglasses. Angry-lookin'. But I didn't exactly speak to him."

Lulu arched a perfect eyebrow.

_I'm not gonna get out of this one, am I?_ He sighed. Sometimes women could be so exasperating. Well, some of them. Not all. "Look, Yuna hasn't told him yet. About me - I mean, about coming out with me and stuff."

"Doesn't she get along with her father?"

Tidus shifted his feet. He glanced at Wakka bent over the breakfast dishes, willing him to hurry up. "No, it's not that. She says she does. But I think… she just knows he'd be angry." That's what he supposed, anyway, though Yuna had never really said as much.

"Why would he be?" Lulu reasoned. "It's normal for a girl her age to have friends."

He shrugged. "Her old man's pretty protective. I mean, if you haven't noticed Yuna's kinda the sheltered type."

"That's the understatement of the year," droned Gippal, earning him a shove from Wakka.

"Yuna's a good girl," the Blitzball captain declared, uncharacteristically serious. He had taken a genuine shine to Yuna, adopting the same protective instincts that Tidus himself was inclined to feel around her. Wakka was more subtle than Gippal and gentler than Rikku, and Tidus thought Yuna found him more approachable than the two wilder characters of the group. "You could take a lesson from her, brudda."

Gippal's face showed exactly what he thought of _that_ notion. Tidus ignored him, reckoning it was about time to let the whole subject of _fathers_ die a quick death. "Anyhow," he declared in what he thought was a tone of finality. "I figure it's Yuna's business if she doesn't tell him."

"Maybe," Lulu was saying. "But it's unhealthy." She was frowning in that thoughtful way that motherly women did. "Maybe I should talk to her."

Tidus groaned. "Just leave it alone, Lulu, trust me on this one. Issues with your old man… it's just something you gotta deal with."

"I hope," Lulu said quietly, but not ungently, "that you're not confusing Yuna with yourself."

Wakka was beginning to look uncomfortable, while Gippal, to Tidus' annoyance, was watching the exchange with a self-satisfied smirk.

But it was more than Gippal's smirk, more than Lulu's self-assured tone of voice that really irked him. So what if he _was_ glad? It felt comforting to know that someone else kept secrets from their father, that someone else's relationship with their father wasn't perfect. So what if it made him feel less – _what, alone? Like I've ever felt alone._

All of a sudden Tidus' appetite had vanished. He felt tired and irritated and there was only one person he really wanted to see in that condition, except he couldn't because her stupid old man was in town. "Look, forget the breakfast," he told them quickly. "I'm not hungry. Wakka, I'll see you at practise." He was careful not to catch anyone's eye as he left the room.

"_Don't run from it, Tidus_," Lulu called after him, but he didn't know how to do anything else.

* * *

--

_**Yuna**_

--

They had laid her to rest in the water. Behind her casket the candlestick buildings of Zanarkand rose up; a somber, silver backdrop for the sad epilogue of a life cut short.

Tidus had told her once that he had seen only a single Sending, and for that Yuna was thankful. Someone of his disposition was not meant to suffer such things. He was sunshine, and death was dark. Yuna knew that all too well.

Not far away she could see an old woman clutching a sleeping newborn in her arms. Her face was wrinkled, a withered flower, but their was a world of strength in her, Yuna could sense that much. A young man – _the widow,_ Yuna knew – stood at her side, looking out onto the water. He seemed utterly lost… and worse, broken. _Sin is gone,_ she reflected,_ yet still the world is filled with sorrows._

"Die and be free of pain, or live and fight your sorrow." It was her father's voice, and Yuna looked up to find him standing at her shoulder, his steely eyes taking a measure of the young man. "He must make that choice in the days to come."

Yuna understood. "I hope he is strong enough, for his daughter's sake," she said quietly. "She'll have need of him." Auron looked at her strangely, eyes unreadable. She took strength from his face, the face that she loved so dearly, and carefully made her way onto the water.

Even as her toes touched the cool surface, she had put all thoughts of weariness from her mind. She didn't think about the stadium, or the sunrise, or Blitzball, or the promise of a Lenne concert. She didn't think about Tidus. Once, on a night illuminated by a thousand orange lights, he had told her that a Blitzer had to always have his mind _in two places at once, like being asleep and awake at the same time_. Yuna had never heard it put into words quite so well. A Sender was the same. There were but two states of mind set to two tasks only: the Dance, and the Sending. And in many ways, the Sending was just as perilous as Blitzball.

While those watching might marvel at the way Yuna's body mirrored so delicately the movement of the water, they would not realise that a part of her would be in danger of straying too far from the mortal plane. _Few spirits will go peacefully to the Farplane, _old Belgemine had cautioned her once._ Those who have been wronged or go before their time will do their best to cling to life, even as fiends. They will hold fast to __**you**__, my child. Do not walk the path of death too far with them._

True to the warnings, Yuna sensed the spirit of the young woman clinging to her in fierce desperation, locked to the memory of her lover, her child, her mother. In that moment Yuna ached with a grief and longing that was not her own, a bitterness and sorrow so potent that it was a trial to reach the love at its center. But reach it she did.

On the cusp of death, with all her willpower furiously focused, Yuna began to carve a path. She traced the runes with her Staff, ancient passwords for the journey between life and death.

When finally she raised the Summoner's Staff high above her head, the pyreflies around her sighed in soft farewell and she knew that it was done.

Yuna was only vaguely aware of her feet touching down. As soon as her mind had slipped back into its normal state, the dizziness and nausea of the morning had swept over her like a tidal wave. She swayed for a moment, her blurry eyes trying to focus, but the dizziness came to her twicefold. Her head throbbed.

Later, she wondered how she ever gathered the strength to reach her father, yet somehow she did.

"You did well, Yuna," he said, full of pride.

"Thankyou, father," she said, and fainted.

* * *

--

_**Auron**_

--

A younger Auron had once sat by another bedside, waiting for a much younger Yuna to awake. Indeed, he would never forget that morning in Bevelle, when his heart had first been touched with the fragile beginnings of paternal love.

Now that love was in full bloom. Yuna had become not just his charge, not just his daughter, but his whole world.

_What could have caused this?_ he agonized. He had moved quick as lightening to catch his daughter at the side of the water as she had teetered on her feet suddenly, and just barely rescued her from a far more brutal fall.

The old woman had attended to her first. _"No fever,"_ the old harridan had assured him. _"She's spent her energy, that's all."_ But Auron had been loathe to believe her. She certainly was no surgeon, and he would not let Yuna's health rest on the word of a herbwitch. Worse, he had had to suffer the pitying comments of the other mourners. _"Young for a Sender, isn't she?"_ they had sympathised, to which he had snapped, _"That means nothing. She's more than capable."_ He had not been in the mood to entertain thoughtless remarks.

Gazing down at her face, so peaceful in sleep, Auron pondered all the possibilities of her failing. Her mother's health had oft been delicate, the old woman in Bevelle had said. But the Sending itself was in his mind the most likely culprit. _It was her first without her teacher to guide her._ For all he knew, such a thing was common amongst Senders. Foolishly he had not thought to inquire after such things before leaving Besaid. _Braska would have known. _The thought was not without bitterness.

"Father?"

Her voice, small and thin as it was, startled him, and he leaned forward to study her face. She turned her head towards him and the kitten, who had been snoozing soundly at her side, awoke when her hair brushed his fur. "Hello, Kimahri," she smiled weakly.

"How do you feel?"

"A little tired. I fainted, didn't I?"

"You'll rest today," he told her firmly. It was an order rather than a suggestion. He was not a man used to making suggestions. "A healer is coming to see you."

"There's no need for that," she told him softly. "It's because I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't sleep at all."

Presently, the fear that had gripped his heart since she first fell finally gave way a little. _Is that all it was? _He could not stop himself from sighing in some small relief. "Yuna," he admonished gently. "You should have told me if that was the case."

Her cheeks grew red with shame. "I'm sorry. I know it was wrong, but I wanted to do the Sending. No matter what. I knew I could do it. She was more important than me."

_Not to me. Never to me. _"You have not been sleeping well at all lately, have you? Yuna, perhaps these ventures of mine were a foolish notion," he said softly. "If you do not feel safe in my absence, then I will not continue to stray from our home. It is my duty, as your father." After all these years, he barely flinched at referring to himself such.

"NO!" Yuna sat up then, and her hands made fists in the blanket. "Father…" she said, swallowing. "What I mean is - I would feel… _responsible_. I'm quite well, I swear it! I should have told you that I couldn't sleep." She launched into a flurried apology with a vehemency that both surprised and confused him.

"Very well, Yuna, don't trouble yourself. I shan't give up my duties if you don't wish it."

She fell back on her bed with a sigh that seemed almost relieved. Auron could do nothing but frown in the face of such strange behaviour, and soon left her to sleep.

Later, he asked Shelinda in confidence.

"Have you noticed anything strange about Yuna? She was not in ill health, you said, while I was gone?"

"No, Sir. Though… she has developed some strange habits."

"You did not mention that before." He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from admonishing the woman. _Must I draw everything out of her myself?_ The maid was efficient, to be sure, but clearly lacking in intelligence.

"Last night… for instance," the maid continued unawares, "I heard noises downstairs. In the kitchen. It was Lady Yuna, Sir. She said she was having a midnight sup."

"Did she seem distressed in any way?" he pressed.

"No, Sir. I would not have left her so easily had I thought so. She looked quite cheerful. I prepared a small sup for her but she ate little in the end."

Auron grunted. _An anxiety habit while I am gone, no doubt._ Perhaps he would create more _safe_ spells around the house before taking his next leave of his daughter, so she might feel more secure in his absence.

He did not stay long from her side that day. In the afternoon he reached her room to find her fully dressed, playing with the kitten on the floor with encouraging gaiety.

"Please, father," she pleaded. "Can't we go to the park in D-West? The lemondrops are so lovely at this time of year. I feel well enough."

"I'm not certain the sun is the best thing for you," he said uncertainly.

"I'll take a parasol," she protested, then, seeing his unconvinced expression, "And if I feel faint this time, I'll tell you!"

And so, ever powerless to refuse his daughter the slightest wish, Auron found himself that afternoon sitting on a wooden bench painted-white, somewhere in west Zanarkand. Yuna sat happily at his feet on the grass with her pink-and-white striped parasol shielding her from the sun. She twirled it, murmuring an old Besaidian hymm softly while she twined her toes in the grass.

Auron regarded her over the top of his copy of _Phoenix Down_. "How have you been spending your time while I've been gone?"

"Oh, this and that."

"Sitting in your garden?" he probed gently.

"Not really," she said mildly, "I don't sit in there so often."

"Oh? You haven't neglected your flowers though, I noticed."

She blushed. _Blushes and silences_, he observed_. I suppose it must be normal for a girl of her age. I have not a woman's insight. _It troubled him though, just as every aspect of Yuna's coming-of-age troubled him.

It was not her silences especially that troubled him. She had always been soft-spoken and gentler than others of her sex. But back on Besaid her silences had had a trace of sadness, as though she had not yet learned the words to express what she wanted to feel. Here in Zanarkand, however, her silences had gained an air of… _secrecy_.

Pursuing such a train of thought, his newspaper soon lay open and forgotten on his knee. His imagination began to conjure up scenarios so ridiculous as to be laughable – his daughter wanted to run away from him - he had made her unhappy by taking her from Besaid - she gazed at other families and envied their attentive fathers - she had fallen in love with some passing stranger – and no matter how he tried to dismiss such unlikely pictures from his mind, his anxiety lingered on. Unable to sit with such agonizing thoughts any longer, he asked her tentatively, "Yuna, is something amiss?"

"No," she murmured, a little too quickly. And she would not meet his eyes. Auron searched her face, briefly, before shaking his head. He would dismiss it as childish fancy. She was still young, after all. _She is allowed to have her secrets… only she has never kept anything from me before._ That wounded him more than anything else.

Cursing his own weakness, but helpless against it, Auron allowed himself one last act of desperation. "Are you… are you glad we came here, Yuna?"

"Oh, yes!" she said instantly. "Zanarkand is the most wonderful place in the whole world!"

She turned her head to smile at him then, a smile so sweet and innocent that he brushed her lightly tanned cheek with a finger.

"You've caught the sun," he told her.

* * *

--

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

--

**Oh, I'm sorry! I do so hope my imagery mallet didn't whack you on the head on your way out of this fic! **

**This chapter was much shorter than the last two. I'm sorry for that, but I think I lack inspiration when there's no Tidus and Yuna interaction. There will be in the next chapter, I promise. And a little jealousy into the mix, which I thrive on. **

**I felt the need for an interval and to start to introduce some growing tension/suspicion/change/whateveryouwannacallit between Yuna and Auron, and also remind you of Tidus' problems.**

**Also, while I was "polishing" this off so I could finally post it, I realised how very unpolished it infact was. I always try to make Tidus' perspective less formal than Yuna's, both in vocab and style, but it always ends up overlapping with the Yuna-pov-style until it's just a bit of a mess. I think I also find it more difficult to write from his pov because I can't relate to him so much. **

**Feh. This is rubbish, but I can't stop. So you have to suffer it.**


	8. Chapter 7: Timebomb

* * *

"Thus it is without justice or reason the extraordinary and bitter flame of jealousy of the flesh flares up in the heart of man."

_---- VIII, A puff of wind, Les Misérables_

* * *

**CHAPTER 7: Timebomb**

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Tidus**_

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She would always look a little out of place. There was no denying it. Her modest clothes, her polished manners, even the simple way she held herself; all betrayed a sense of foreigness.

Worse, it was an untracable foreigness. It often happened that strangers stopped to ask where she was from, mistaking her for some high born politician from one of the North-eastern countries. Tidus couldn't blame them. Yuna didn't look like some island castaway; her face had an almost Bevellian profile – refined, gracious - and her clothes and camellia white skin only seemed to confirm that fact. No matter what she did, there was always an air of nobility around her that made it difficult for her to blend in.

It was for that reason that he had tempted her to the East-A Plaza, the beating heart of Zanarkand's cosmopolitan culture. Here flocked the city's most colourful creatures – painted performers from Macalania, laughing as they pulled passersby into wild tumultuous dances and half-naked children, weaving their way in amongst blackened feet, sending merrymakers tumbling into each others' arms. Wizened Hypello from beyond the Moonflow were selling fortune spheres and other unidentified trinkets in a shadowy corner of the Plaza, while shady Al-Bhed tradesmen were setting up overpriced _machina_ stalls nearby.

Happily, the Plaza had the desired effect – even Yuna was indiscernible from the crowd. She sat perched on the edge of a white marble fountain featuring the goddess Shiva. Silvery water rained from the Aeon's upturned palm and pooled at her slender feet. Yuna's chin lay nestled in the heel of her hand as she gazed contentedly into the night.

She looked very pretty indeed, her honey-coloured hair glistening under the hazy orange lamplight. Tidus, sitting close beside her, followed her wistful gaze to an eager Zanarkand child riding a Chocobo. When he asked her if she wanted to ride, however, she only shook her head shyly.

"You sure?" he pressed. "Don't worry about the _gil_; I've got enough to cover it." Money was one thing Tidus never lacked for. His father's fortune was considerable, and although Jecht himself seemed content to drink his half, he was strangely careful with his son's share, providing him with an ample allowance. It was the one thing Tidus couldn't hate him for.

"No," Yuna insisted. "Only it reminds me of Besaid. My father took me for Chocobo rides on the beach sometimes."

Tidus grunted half-heartedly. He realised he had painted a very harsh version of Yuna's old man in his head, a long stretch from her own protested point of view. She described her father as serious, quiet, protective – Tidus imagined him severe, unemotional, even cruel. A villain, a replica of his own old man. Which was probably why he took such great pleasure in helping Yuna, who seemed not to have the same freedoms as he himself, escape her father's authority.

But maybe, he reasoned, she was lamenting the loss of Besaid, rather than closeness with her father. The question had often been at the tip of his tongue – _don't you ever miss your home?_ – but for some reason he had never asked her. Maybe because he didn't want to hear the wrong answer.

Lazily he raised his arms behind his head, stretching his muscles to their limit. They were sore from hours of Blitz practise, but it was a good ache. "Chocobos on Besaid too, huh? How about a shoopuff? Ever seen one?"

She blinked, looking startled, and did not answer for some moments. "I… I think maybe when I was little. The memory is very vague."

"A Ronso?"

"No."

"Hmm. A cactaur?"

"No," Yuna repeated, smiling strangely with one corner of her mouth. "Is this a test?"

"If it is you're not doing very well," he teased.

"Well then, maybe you should have a turn." She pushed herself lightly off the fountain's edge, dusted her hands, then clasped them behind her back. "Have you ever seen a Guado?"

"Sure, yeah." _There's one in a Sphere in my father's closet,_ he almost added, but wasn't really sure if he was ready to talk about that yet. "Don't see them so much anymore, but there used to be a ton in Zanarkand. Hit me again."

"Okay. How about a moogle?"

"There's a moogle sanctuary in A-North, ha!"

"A chimera?"

"Once."

"Pictures don't _count_," she chimed, holding up an admonishing finger.

"Wasn't a picture, I'm telling you! Sometimes fiends wander in from Mount Gagazet. The Crusaders pick 'em off."

"Okay then… water flan?"

"A water-" He paused, then narrowed his eyes. "You made that up!"

"I did not!" But her eyes were sparkling and her smile carried a hint of mischief. Tidus leapt forward and tried to tickle her into a confession, but her small white hands batted him away. "I swear!" Yuna protested between giggles, "You get them in Besaid! I didn't make it up, I swear!"

As soon as he withdrew his hands she bounced backwards and punched the air in a victory gesture. "I win!"

Coming from Yuna, the gesture was quite adorable and Tidus couldn't help but smile at her. Her playful eyes twinkled back, causing him to notice the strangeness of them for the first time.

The iris of her left eye, he realised, was a striking emerald green, while her right was as blue as the ocean; as blue as his own.

"What is it?" she asked, visibly uncomfortable under his close study.

"Your eyes. They're two different colours… I'd never noticed before."

"You didn't notice?! _Tidus!_" Yuna seemed delighted; she broke into full and spontaneous laughter. It was an undeniably beautiful sound.

"Well, you always hide them!" he accused her, not ungently. "You're always looking down at the ground all the time, Yuna, like you've got something to be ashamed of."

She looked away, shyly.

"See, you're doing it right now!"

Determination rose up in him then, and he cupped her chin, gently but firmly lifting her face towards his. "You've got nothing to hide, Yuna. You're a beautiful girl. You should show it more often." She blushed like the sun and Tidus found himself remembering Lulu's insinuation. _I like her_, the ex-Guardian had commented. _Just the type you need._

He was used to girls having crushes on him. But Yuna… she was different. Other girls were a fleeting smile, a flirtacious wink in passing, maybe a date or two. Yuna, she was something more precious than that. More than any of his other friends, she was his greatest source of conslation, of _trust_. And there was something else between them, too. Not just their missing mothers, or their secretive fathers, but…

He thought it might be that she needed him.

The silence stretched between them, Yuna's face still between his hands. He found himself contemplating those blue and green eyes.

"_Hey guys_!"

They broke apart, instantly; Wakka and the others had found them. Rikku had a cup of sweet ice happily in hand; Gippal looked bored, and Lulu as darkly beautiful as ever. She left Wakka's side and went to Yuna immediately – Yuna looked equally pleased to see her, if a little flustered.

It wasn't long before the two girls dragged behind the rest of the party, conversing as steadily as sisters.

"How are things going, man?" asked Wakka as they made their way out of the Plaza, clapping Tidus on the back. "Ready for the big game on Sunday?"

Rikku grinned at him, her lips stained ruby-red from the sweet ice. "Yeah, you guys are gonna kick their butt!"

"Hell yeah." The Ronso Fangs were strong, sure – brute strong - but that was the only reason thay had gotten this far in the league. Their bulk made them slow and clumsy in the water and they were no match for Wakka's smart plays.

"So where we headed?"

"Rin's," said Gippal immediately.

"Silverwings," said Tidus at the same moment. They looked at each other in surprise.

"Are you kidding? I'm not taking Yuna in there!"

"Afraid she's gonna get hit on? Thought you weren't interested."

"That's got nothing to do with---"

"Y'know, you talk about her old man sheltering her, but you're just as bad."

Tidus felt his fists clench in irritation. _That_ one had touched a nerve. "What the hell do you know about it?"

"Come on, she's not a _kid_."

"Silverwings is classier," Wakka suggested, blissfully unaware of the undertones of their argument, or else pretending to be.

"Outvoted, Gippal!" said Rikku playfully, poking the sweet-ice cone at his face.

All she received for her troubles was a well-aimed scowl.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They chose a table under the stars, wrapped in the cool night air.

Yuna had been shy at first, clutching her menu like a rock in a raging river, until Tidus plucked it from her fingers and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. It wasn't long before she was sipping cocktails with Rikku, giggling over her glass. It was funny, he thought, he had never noticed the resemblance between the two girls before. In the dim orange lamplight they almost looked like sisters, with the same heart-shaped face, the same fringe of hair falling over their eyes.

Yuna sat between himself and Lulu – deliberately manouevered away from Gippal - and Tidus had never seen her so animated, not since the night he took her to the stadium. The air was thick with laughter, the remnants of music drifting outside.

Wakka, already a little tipsy after two bottles of frothy Kilikan beer, caught up a well-known melody about the Eternal Calm and sang it lustily, making the girls giggle and Lulu feign embarassment.

"My pops _hates_ songs about Lord Braska," Rikku commented when he was done. "He won't let me or Brother play any in the house!"

"My father seems to tire of them too," Yuna admitted, unusually outspoken. "But in truth, sometimes I wonder about them myself." She turned to Lulu, face earnest. "You were a Guardian, Lulu. There's not a trace of Lord Braska's left in the whole of Spira, not in song or sphere or history book. Don't you think it's wrong that they should be forgotten?"

"It might not be what you think, Yuna. When Lady Ginnem died… I was thoroughly ashamed of myself." Lulu stared into her wine glass, absently swirling the rose-red liquid. Next to her, Wakka put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, though it didn't change Lulu's solemnity of expression. "I didn't want to be known as a Guardian who failed her Summoner. All I wanted was that her bravery and courage were not forgotten. High Summoner Braska also died at the end of his pilgrimage. They defeated Sin, but he died. Some will still see that as a failure." She left her final words unspoken; _myself included_.

"But then Guardians could never fulfil their duties," Yuna protested, clearly trying to appease Lulu's guilt. "It would be a hopeless case to begin with."

"It's all a conspiracy, anyway," Gippal interrupted. "He didn't _have_ any Guardians."

Tidus barked a laugh. _Gippal and his conspiracies. He's spent too long with those crazies in the Youth League._ "Of _course_ he had Guardians. How could he have made the pilgrimage without someone to watch his back? No Summoner could do that."

Gippal took up the challenge. "No Summoner ever defeated Sin either. He had to have been good."

"No one's _that_ good," Tidus insisted.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did someone die and make you the wise all-knowing one? I must have missed the memo. What's your version of events then, smartass?"

Tidus shrugged. "People just forgot them. Spira got their hero, didn't they? Why would they care about the rest?" He was aware of the bitterness underlying his own words, but he'd been taught the real meaning of 'hero' when his father came home ten years ago. No one cared what his son had to go through. "Anyway, Braska's pilgrimage was never very famous in the first place. It's probably lucky we know about him at all. Wasn't he disgraced or something?"

"It was said that Lord Braska was excommunicated, yes," said Lulu, clearly the most informed of the party. Tidus glanced sideways at Yuna and found her listening intently, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. "Some say through loss of chastity."

"Wouldn't blame him," Gippal shrugged. He got a sharp look from Lulu, of course. "What? If you knew you were about to die, you might wanna 'get some' on your way out, is all I'm saying."

"Don't be disgusting," hissed Lulu. Yuna was blushing, predictably, while Wakka tried not to laugh in front of his wife's stern gaze. It was Rikku who eventually broke the uncomfortable mood by snaking her arms around herself and saying, "I'm cold. Let's go inside?"

Silverwings' interior was deafening, bursting with chocobo racing games, snack dispensers and bandit _machina_. It also boasted several larger-than-life viewspheres, one for every taste. No one was surprised when Rikku ran off to admire the songstress sphere.

Tidus and Wakka, on the other hand, found themselves lingering too close to the Blitzball sphere and were soon surrounded by Abes enthusiasts. Lulu was forced to play hostess to Yuna in their absence, showing the bewildered girl to a table before she became lost in the throng.

Time passed like a blur under Silverwings' neon lights. With a little alcohol in his system, courtesy of his fans, Tidus felt warm and talkative, laughing loudly and boasting even louder, shaking hands with ever familiar face that crossed his path. He soon felt the lack of his real friends, however, and briefly removed himself from the Blitz talk to check his surroundings for them.

Rikku had eagerly involved herself in a linedance to a Lenne hit, while Lulu was nursing another glass of wine at the bar, deep in conversation with a silver-haired sphere hunter. Yuna, though, was harder to locate, and when he finally spotted her in Gippal's company, an uneasy sensation overcame him.

Gippal, ever the _machina_ whiz kid, was trying his hand at a bandit game, and it wasn't long before he had silver spilling from the trays. _I bet he rigged it somehow,_ Tidus speculated. The Al-Bhed cursed as the _gil_ flowed too fast for his fingers, while Yuna tried her best to catch the coins in her skirts. He had to admit it - she looked kind of cute doing so. When she caught Tidus looking at her from across the room, she smiled brightly and gave a little conspiratory wave. He waved back, though found it more difficult to summon a smile.

_Screw this,_ he thought, watching Gippal direct the flow of _gil_ into the pleats of her skirt with an increasing sense of agitation. _I should be keeping my promise to her, not signing blitzballs for strangers all night. _He glanced back at Wakka, who was trying to motion Tidus back to his side with a subtle hand gesture, a silent plea for help._ Alright. Two more drinks, _decided Tidus._ And I'm gone. _

But _gone_ was exactly how he found Gippal and Yuna some time later, with only two empty glasses and a handful of newly-won _gil_ to show that they had ever been there at all.

* * *

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Yuna**_

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yuna skipped forward a few paces, an attempt to catch up to Gippal's long-legged stride. The night air was chilly and it nipped at her bare upper-arms, leaving her to wonder _why_ exactly they had chosen to leave the welcoming warmth of Silverwings.

"And you're _sure_ the others are coming?" she pressed.

"I said so, didn't I?" If anything, Gippal sounded annoyed by the question. "They said go on ahead, okay? They'll catch up eventually."

The Al-Bhed led with a quiet confidence through the winding streets of the Zanarkand. As they passed brightly-lit boardwalks and dark, suspect alleyways, Yuna silently acknowledged that she would still be quite lost in this great metropolis, without a guide.

Rin's Tavern – "a _real_ bar," according to Gippal - was their next stop. It had fazed her a little at first, the prospect of going on ahead with him, but after all, Tidus had done something similar before… when he sent Rikku to fetch her for the Blitzball match. _Perhaps, _she thought, she **hoped**, _he just wants me to get to know his friends better. _Some part of her wished he had sent Lulu instead though. Gippal was quite the one-way talker.

"So… you were in the Youth League?" she tried.

"Yup."

"… _a__nd_ New Yevon?"

"Not at the same time, obviously."

That left Yuna genuinely confused. "But then… are you a radical or a conservative?"

He grinned, showing teeth. "I'm a radical all the way, my Lady. I only joined New Yevon to annoy my Dad."

"Oh." She could hardly approve of such a reason, but then, she didn't know Gippal's father. _Not everyone is as fortunate as you, _she reminded herself.

"And now you're not in either faction?" she clarified.

"No." He jammed his hands in his pockets, looking uneasy. "I do some work for the Machine faction."

"What did you do?" she asked him. "In New Yevon, you know? These movements never really reached Besaid."

When she had first heard of the group, it had struck her as inappropriate that they had named it after the man who had condemned Spira to a thousand years of sorrow. It seemed to her a group that was not ready to face reality.

Gippal gave her a vague account of New Yevon's activities, which consisted mostly of insulting its various senior members. He didn't seem keen to talk about his experience there at length, however, so she didn't press the subject.

Her follow-up efforts at conversation were futile; Gippal was not _rude_, per say, but he did seem distracted, and almost always avoided eye contact with her. She wondered if it was because he had been burdened with her unwillingly, and was about to offer an apology along these lines when she was rescued by their arrival at Rin's.

Yuna liked the tavern on first sight; it just had _character_. The building was so dilapidated that it looked like it might be held up by a few well-placed _float_ spells, while the sign was old and rain-beaten, one of its hinges rusted away. _It looks like something from one of father's old storybooks._ There was something strangely _nostalgic_ about it all, she thought, something that tugged faintly at her heartstrings.

Under the sign _Rin's Tavern _there were faded painted letters in Al Bhed, barely legible – a poem of some sort. Yuna read it out to herself, slowly, fumbling over the words she found most difficult to pronounce. "_Dra knyja cuim gaabc edc ufh calnadc… yht dygac edc ufh bihecrsahd eh cemahla_," she quoted to herself. She tried to remember her father's lessons, so long ago on Besaid. " Does it mean… the wise person – or – the wise _soul_ keeps its secrets... and… and takes the punishment—"

"—eh cemahla, in silence," Gippal finished for her. "You know Al-Bhed?"

"A little," she confessed.

His brow furrowed, his lips crooking upwards in what looked suspiciously like a smile. "You're full of surprises, Yuna."

"Is it a warning?" she asked him. "The poem?"

He shrugged. "I guess. A lot of shady deals go down here. If you're smart you wanna keep 'em to yourself. It's an inn as well, you know. Come on, let's go in already. It's freakin' cold out here."

Yuna didn't disagree.

Rin's bar was indeed quite unlike Silverwings; they were even forced to try and clear their own table of the cluttered remnants of the previous party's exploits before making room for their own drinks. When the barkeep came to clear away the empty tankards, however, his eyes were quickly distracted by Yuna.

"Do I know you, girl?" he asked in his heavy Al-Bhed accent.

"I don't think so," said Yuna shyly.

"You seem familiar. You look--"

"She's new to Zanarkand," Gippal interrupted, helpfully. "Ain't ya, my Lady?" He clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder, used it as a prop to draw himself to his feet. "Listen, I'm gonna go get some drinks, Yuna. Stay put."

"It's true, my father and I only arrived here very recently," she told the barkeep, when Gippal had gone. "Really I'm from Besaid. It's an island off the coast of Luca. Down in the south."

"That so?" He said quietly. "You have an eastern look."

"Well, my father was from Bevelle," she began eagerly, delighting to talk of Auron. "He trained to be a warrior monk at the Temple, specialised in _katana_…" Suddenly Yuna checked herself, wondering why a stranger would be so interested in her life. She noticed that he had barely touched the empty glasses since she began her story. "Well… and that is why, you see," she finished abruptly.

Perhaps noticing her sudden uneasiness, Rin bent to his work, dragging a dirty rag across the table to soak up the spilt foam of cheap Bikanel beer. He did not seem to have finished his interrogation, however.

"And what are two Southerners doing way up here?" He tried to ease her with a smile, but Yuna did not think it was genuine, somehow. His swirled green eyes were more serious. "Long way from home."

Yuna hesitated. "I--"

"_Yuna!_"

Abruptly she turned to see none other than Tidus striding quickly towards her. She rose to greet him, delighted, and at the same time secretly glad of the excuse to break her conversation with Rin. "Finally you all arrived!" she smiled at him, glimpsing Rikku, Lulu and Wakka approaching at his tail.

It was only when they made eye contact that she realised he did not look so happy to see _her_.

"_Gods_, Yuna, _what_-" he began, then paused to catch his breath. He ran a distressed hand through his blonde hair, then, without seeming aware of what he was doing, placed his hands firmly on the sides of her shoulders. "Why the hell d'you leave like that, huh? We were all _worried_ about you!"

It was the angriest speech he had ever uttered towards her. She shook her head, utterly lost. "But… Gippal said that you told us to go on ahead."

Tidus' face darkened at her words, and she did not miss the way his grip tightened on her shoulders.

"_Where – is - he_?"

"Um," said Yuna, still a little bemused. She glanced over her shoulder, remembering Rin, but the barkeep had long gone. "At the bar, I think. He said he went to get drinks for… but, are you alright?"

She stole a glance into his blue eyes, surprised by what she saw there. Once again he seemed, not _her_ Tidus, but rather the Tidus she had seen that day in the Blitzball field – fierce, remote. He loosened his grip on her shoulders and strode into the throng without another word.

"Whatever's the matter?" Yuna asked Lulu, when the mage appeared at her side.

"Gippal did not mention to us that you two were leaving, Yuna. We were a little worried."

"No," reasoned Yuna, grasping for an explanation. "That can't be right. Why in Spira would he-"

The rest of her question was drowned out as commotion erupted deeper into the bar. There was the scraping of wood across the floor, a clatter like a stool falling over, and a pained yell.

Yuna and Lulu arrived at the scene just in time to see Gippal's fist connect with Tidus' jaw, sending the Blitzer staggering backwards into another stool. He recovered his ground quickly, however, and launched himself with a fury at the Al-Bhed boy. The impact sent both combatants tumbling to the floor.

Clearly it was neither an unfamiliar nor _unwelcome_ scene to the customers of Rin's Tavern; a crowd was steadily gathering around the two boys, seemingly pleased by the entertainment, whooping and shouting, some even yelling helpful advice.

Tidus grabbed Gippal's collar, pulled his head from the ground and returned the punch he had just received with energy. A split purple bruise had appeared on the Blitzer's jaw, but Gippal looked no better, a track of blood running from his nose. He screamed obsceneties at his friend, while Tidus had a concentrated look of cold fury on his face.

Yuna called out with the rest; though she seemed to be the only one who was not shouting _encouragement_, and soon found herself behind the bulk of the crowd, straining to see past broad shoulders and stocky physiques. Lulu, on the other hand, seemed quite nonplussed at her side.

"Their friendship has always been volatile at best," she explained over the noise.

"Is it because of me?" Yuna asked her.

"They're just silly boys," said Lulu, but Yuna noticed that she avoided the question.

It took Rin and Wakka several tries to guage them off of one another. Gippal was still yelling expletives at his friend, but Tidus was murderously silent, wiping blood from his lip. His silver earring glinted under the green light.

"Take it outside!" Rin was yelling, looking less than amused. "I don't want you destroying my bar!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some time later, Yuna found herself awkwardly perched on a wooden bench beside Rikku, waiting for the storm to calm. Some distance away, near the water's edge, Lulu seemed to be confronting the difficult task of mediating between the two boys, who were both scowling.

"Yunie?"

"Hmm?"

"Did he kiss you?"

Yuna blinked, uncomprehending. She almost hadn't heard the question, quiet as it had been. "Kiss me? Who do you mean?"

"_Gippal_," Rikku clarified. "Did he _kiss_ you?"

"Oh, Rikku. _No_." Yuna, quite mortified, put a hand on Rikku's shoulder. "No, no, of course not. Why would you think that?" _Oh no, is that what they all think? _Her stomach gave an uneasy turn; she certainly hoped Tidus didn't think so.

"Oh… I just thought… maybe he liked you or something." Rikku shrugged, uncharacteristically morose.

"It's not like that at all, I didn't know, I-" Yuna paused, peered into Rikku's averted eyes. Suddenly the most sensible reason for the question presented itself to her. "Do you… like Gippal, Rikku?"

Rikku shrugged, unconvincingly. "We've been friends ever since we were little. He just sees me as a little kid."

Yuna did too, most of the time. It was hard not to. Rikku looked and acted like a little kid, after all. But she knew that appearances could be deceiving. Her father was fearsome looking in the right mood, but he had the kindest heart.

"He only likes the pretty girls…" Rikku confided to the table. "You know, the sexy ones."

"_Rikku_," Yuna admonished, not without affection. "You _are_ pretty, you're a beautiful girl. All the girls back in Besaid used to be wildly jealous of people like you with that sunlight in your hair, including me." She touched a lock of Rikku's golden hair lightly, and smiled into the other girl's eyes.

It had the desired effect; the ghost of a smile appeared on Rikku's face. "Really, Yunie?"

"Really."

"They all want hair like mine?"

"That's right. In Besaid, you might be as famous as Lenne, you know."

The Al-Bhed giggled. "Really? But it's normal here. To have all kinds of different hair."

Yuna had to smile. "So I see. But they wouldn't think so, back on Besaid. It's a very small place and most people have dark hair like mine, or my father's."

Quite forgetting about Gippal, Rikku began to quiz Yuna about other Besaidian customs – what kind of clothes did they wear there? Were the boys handsome? Were they tall? Were the accents so different here?

It was clear that some of Yuna's own naivety had been stripped away. She rather thought that Gippal was a poor choice for Rikku, for anyone, in such a volatile stage. She could see now that she had misjudged the Al Bhed boy's intentions.

Suddenly she was reminded of her very first day in Zanarkand, when her father had admonished her for leaving his protection. _You are not in Besaid anymore, Yuna_, he had lectured_. These people are not the friendly islanders you know so well. You need to be on your guard._ For the first time she took those words to heart.

She and Rikku were still talking when Lulu approached. "The fire has been quenched for the time being," she informed them. "They are each cooling off in their own way."

"Where's Gippal?" Rikku asked, biting her lip.

"Gone home, I imagine. Or perhaps another bar." She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Maybe I'll just go and see if he's okay." The Al-Bhed girl pushed herself off the bench with more force than was necessary and left, half-running.

Lulu shook her head softly, smoothing her dress and coming to sit in Rikku's vacated space. Their skirts mingled, Lulu's black lacy folds coming to rest beside Yuna's own midnight blue pleats.

"Please don't trouble yourself over tonight, Yuna," the older woman pressed. "There's a history there that you're unaware of. And Gippal has always been something of a ticking Al Bhed bomb. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

Yuna nodded briefly, unconvinced but trying not to show it.

"Yuna, may I ask you something?"

She blinked at the unexpected request. "Of course, Lulu."

"Tidus mentioned to me that you had not told your father about your meetings with him, with us."

Yuna cast her eyes to the ground. She did not really need to be reminded of the fact; it was never far away from her conscience. She thought about her father on his journey now, unaware of the face that his daughter was running wild in the city with strangers. She thought about the kitten he had given her, sleeping innocently on her bed. Then she thought about Tidus and his father, and Gippal and his. A wave of guilt threatened to swallow her whole.

"You know," Lulu was saying in a gentle tone. "Wakka and I are hoping to be parents someday. If you were our daughter… we'd want to know."

Yuna sighed, turning her gaze upwards to the stars. They filled the Zanarkand sky, soft and white and impenetrable. Somehow, it was easier to justify her choices to them than to the mage at her side, for they alone had witnessed all her memories, and could judge her fairly.

She leaned backwards on the bench, resting her weight on her hands. "Almost as far back as I can remember, it's always been the two of us. Father and I." Her voice sounded very far away in her own ears, almost wistful. "It was lonely, but at the same time it wasn't, you know? We never needed anyone else."

Truth be told, she had never wanted anyone else. Back on Besaid, she had always preferred her father's company to the other islanders. Perhaps it was his insight of the wider world, or his patience with her, the protective gentleness in all his gestures. But most of all, she thought, it was because to be in his company was to be loved, the only love she had ever known.

"My father is a good man. But I can see that his past is painful. He has scars, mysteries, ghosts that he will not share with me. We never speak about my mother. Though… I asked him about her once, just once, when I was young."

"And what did he say?"

_Nothing,_ Yuna thought. _He did not say a single word._ Yet she thought the look he had given her would haunt her forever.

"I would rather never know her name," she told Lulu, "than see that pain in his eyes again." As Yuna confessed it she knew it to be true. Auron sheltered and sustained her; if all she could do in return was spare him the smallest pain, then she would do so uncomplaining.

"I am all that he has. I'm not being selfish," she continued, realising the weight of her own words. "I'm not. Please don't think so. I know the world does not revolve around me, you know? But… for so long, we've lived for each other alone. If he knew that there was someone else in my life that…" Lulu arched an eyebrow, and Yuna found herself hesitating, unable to express the vehemency of her feelings about Tidus out loud, unsure even herself what those feelings were. "If he knew… I think it might break his heart."

* * *

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Gippal**_

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thought of going home hadn't crossed his mind yet. He didn't think he could stand the sight of his parents right now, probably screaming at each other while his mother hurled his father's precious _machina_ across the room. That, or his old man would be curled up weeping in his study again, cradling that stupid memory sphere.

No, Gippal intended to be very drunk before he made himself face either of _those_ charming scenes. At the very _least_, drunk enough that he wouldn't have to remember it in the morning.

He drained the last of his beer and moved on to his next. Rin's bar was nearly empty, most of the regulars ready to stumble home. Cid's girl had come by earlier, looking for him, but he had still been too livid to talk to her civily. _I guess I was pretty cold to her,_ he reflected. The guilt that accompanied the thought only served to make him feel more irritable. She was a harmless little thing, really, but her enthusiasm wasn't always the best ingredient when there was anger in the mix.

And there had definitely been enough of _that_ to go around. Tidus had appeared as if from nowhere, swearing at him, asking what the hell he thought he was playing at. Gippal had just snapped, and made a comment about Yuna that he probably shouldn't have.

He knew why he'd done it now, though he hadn't at the time. He did it because Tidus had told him not to, and he was so gods-damned _tired_ of being told what to do. The idiot acted like he wasn't interested in Yuna, then had the gall to throw possessive looks whenever Gippal came near her. The entire evening, every one of the Blitzer's looks had been _don't talk to her when I'm not there, you're not taking her there, don't get any ideas, don't flirt with her, don't go near her, I'm warning you. _

And the way the rest of them had kept brushing aside his opinion, deferring to Tidus on every subject like he was suddenly the leader of their little gang. A Blitzball uniform and a hotshot pool record didn't make you king of Zanarkand, but no one seemed to know that around here.

_Cred, all I did was stop treating his girl like a five year old, and everyone acts like I've run over his dog with a machina._

The shy little island maiden wasn't really his type, it was true. He preferred a girl he could actually banter with, without the need to disguise flirting under blushes and hints and smalltalk. But there was something about Yuna that undeniably drew you to her. He thought it might be the fact that she actually listened when you talked. His own mother couldn't even do _that_.

"I'll have a cactaur juice and tonic water, barkeep."

_A woman's drink,_ Gippal thought automatically. He watched as the barkeep accepted _gil_ from a girl sitting a few stools away from his own. Her clothes were those of a hardened traveller – she had a hunting knife tucked into her mud-encrusted boot and a ragged utility belt strapped firmly around her small waist. She was also very pretty, despite the wear-and-tear.

"Hey, beautiful," he murmured, grinning at her.

The woman glanced at him briefly, wrinkled her nose with disdain.

"You're in the Youth League, right?" he said, glancing at the symbol on her sleeve. "You a sphere hunter? Work for Nooj?"

She ignored him, pulling the drink towards her, taking a tentative sip. It seemed satisfactory; she smacked her lips and took a longer, lustier draught.

"I got spheres," Gippal confided, more to his glass than anyone else. "A whole bunch of 'em."

She seemed amused, if anything. "Is that right?"

"You don't believe me, but I did. Really ancient ones, too. There was a Guado…"

His eyelids felt suddenly heavy. He tried to remember what else he'd seen in Jecht's room, but for some reason even the memory of what he'd done yesterday was beginning to go blurry. _What was I talking about? Ti's old man… the sphere. The sword. And…_Some part of him warned not to say anymore.

"Well anyway, there was a Guado in one of 'em," he pointed out.

"Some Blitzball match, was it?" She was still trying to feign disinterest, but it was impossible to miss the way she leaned slightly forward on her stool, eager to hear more.

"Guadosalem."

"That sounds very interesting," she intoned. She was leaning close to him now, close enough that he could smell her perfume, cloyingly sweet. "Can I buy you another drink?"

* * *

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**AUTHOR'S NOTES**_

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**NEXT CHAPTER: Trouble, talk, tears and tiyuna sweetness. **

**THIS CHAPTER: You're probably all confused at the last scene. It'll explain itself in due time. **

**Did Tidus seem too bitter? I'm having trouble writing his character. Yuna's so easy… but getting inside a guy's psyche? **

**Also, don't hurt me, angry Gippal fans! I'm not making him into a villain, I swear. He's just a teenager who's fed up of authority and who has a hard time at home, so he's drawn to Yuna's sort of innate motherly kindness. And he's gonna redeem himself big time later on. **

* * *

**Review replies**

**Beaucoup riant**, thankyou so much for your review, really made me reflect on the story. You mentioned Yuna's weakness and Auron's excessive parenting in this story. I certainly took the comment to heart and I know exactly what you mean. I think one of the reasons for this is that I'm modelling Yuna and Auron's relationship on the Cosette and Valjean relationship from the _Les Miserables_ novel. That paternal bond was something I've always adored in literature and I always wanted to recreate it. Auron _**is**_ almost insensible in his protectiveness of Yuna, and Yuna _**is**_ almost unbelievably innocent. It's _not_ as realistic, I agree. I'm just going for the romantic here because that's what I prefer. Even Tidus is more romantic than realistic, I imagine his inner thoughts are a lot more gentle than those of a typical boy his age would normally be. That said, Yuna will grow throughout the story. She's been sheltered far too much, has never really done anything on her own and is only now being shown how to open up by Tidus. Even in this chapter her innocence starts to recede a little.

**Claire** – thankyou very much, and I will! As long as people keep reading 

**Imp4ever** – will maintain cuteness standards for your sake ;)

**Miss Aerith** – no worries, I don't plan on stopping anytime soon! And they're both 17 in the story, fyi.

**Stee** – I only finished the game recently too, I'm glad this story strikes a chord with you.

**Daianapotter** – Thankyou so much, I will!

**Whitephoenix33** – ah, thanks so much for all your reviews, they came as a nice big bundle! And I think you were the only person to predict what would happen in this chapter!

**Cocoapuffaddict** – yes, me too, they are my OTP, as they say!

**Taela** – Eek, thankyou so much for your constructive review. I'm so glad that you find it easy to fall into the changing character POVs, it's really hard for me to tell how smoothly it reads for my reviewers. And the Tidus/Yuna interactions are what inspire me to write the most – it's everything else that's difficult to write!

**Sam** – Ack, I'm blushing. Thankyou for your consistently kind reviews. I'm glad you find it sweet, which is what I'm going for, and good to hear I'm not overdoing the drama.

**sanchez2010** – Hmm, it will happen in the next few chapters, you think? Are you sure Tidus is smart enough to realise yet? Better wait and see! ; )

**That belle** – I'm glad, please keep reading!

**bicheon** – Yes Ma'am! –salutes-

**Vandevere** – I always thought Auron would have made a wonderful father figure if he hadn't had to go through the trauma of seeing both his companions die, confronting Yunalesca and err… being an undead for 10 years. Glad you think so too!

**lambs** – Thankyou so much for your in-depth review, it was a joy to read. It's reviews like yours that really make my day. Everything that you mentioned that you enjoyed, I will try to keep up a high standard of.


	9. Chapter 8: Old Heart Versus Young Heart

* * *

"There was so much bluff, fatherly indulgence in his manner that Marius, now suddenly transported from despair to hope, was quite bewildered."

_Book Eight: Enchantment and Despair, VII: Old heart versus young heart_

_**Les Misérables – Victor Hugo**_

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Old Heart Versus Young Heart**

--

_**Yuna**_

--

"Thankyou for the meal, Lulu. It was wonderful." She meant it, too. Yuna had never truly sampled authentic Zanarkand cuisine; her father was always watchful and wary of street vendors, and Shelinda only cooked Bevellian food from her home city, wholesome but utterly unexotic.

"You're just lucky it wasn't Wakka cooking," said Tidus at her side, taking advantage of his red-headed friend's absence. "Coach can't tell a spatula from his elbow."

"You would do well to keep quiet, freeloader," the black mage admonished. "Whether it's Wakka or myself, you'll take what you get. And, it was my pleasure, Yuna."

Yuna had skipped dinner that night with Shelinda, much to the maid's chagrin. Their relationship had become more and more strained of late; the ex-Acolyte no doubt translated Yuna's clumsy attempts to conceal her nightly outings as the frivolous moods of a self-interested young girl, meant to vex. For Yuna, it was a relief to be in a place where she did not have to look over her shoulder every passing moment.

Lulu's visage took on a serious demeanor as she cleared the last of the plates (having waved Yuna away from them in a motherly fashion) and finally took a seat at the table. "Yuna. I invited you here because I feel we owe you an explanation for last night."

Yuna glanced sideways at Tidus; he looked uncharacteristically abashed, though Yuna thought it might be something to do with the glare that Lulu was directing his way. The Blitzer still bore the war wounds of his conflict with Gippal; a faint purple bruise on his jaw and a slightly swollen bottom lip. Yet as he raised those arresting sea-blue eyes to look into hers, she thought that he had lost none of his beauty. "Yuna, I'm sorry about yesterday. I'm sorry you had to see that. And I'm sorry about Gippal."

Yuna wrung her hands together under the table, embarrassed. "I don't think he meant any harm." _Not truly, anyway. _It was only half a lie.

Tidus seemed to think otherwise, his expression visibly darkening, but before he could say anything, Lulu cut him off with a sharp look. "Yuna," she sighed, wearing a tired expression that did not suit her. "I believe it might help if you understood his story. You see, like Rikku, Gippal is actually the son of a rather prestigious Al Bhed."

Tidus gave a short laugh at the look of surprise on Yuna's face. "Wouldn't know it to hear him speak, would you?"

"His father is the head of the Machine Faction," continued the ex-Guardian, ignoring the interruption. "Cid, I believe, wanted to join their two families by marrying his sister to Gippal's father. Instead she lost her innocence to a passing foreigner who never looked upon her again. Or so the story goes."

"So they might have been cousins in another life," Tidus interjected. "Just think of that!"

Lulu shot him a withering glance. "I believe Cid still means to cement the two families by encouraging a bond between Gippal and Rikku instead. He never says so directly, only hints. But the hints are enough. Rikku's too young to be aware of it, but Gippal knows."

"Oh, he knows alright. And he hates being told what to do. And he hates his parents even more," added Tidus. "They fight non-stop. He's almost out of the house as much as me."

Yuna filled in the blanks. "So even if he liked Rikku, he would rebel against the match."

"Of course," answered Tidus, "He just wants the opposite of whatever they want."

Yuna could not help but think of poor Rikku, who was blissfully unaware of all of this. _Sincere, innocent, wonderful Rikku._ Yet somehow she could not fault Gippal either. _If his parents are truly so oppressive, it is natural to rebel._ She swallowed back a lump in her throat, wondering if under all her excuses, that is exactly what she was doing; rebelling against her father.

"I realise that this doesn't account for his actions," Lulu continued. "But it goes some way towards explaining… his _nature_, you understand."

Yuna made some small noise of assent, if only for Lulu's benefit. The truth was, she had never really been _upset_ with Gippal, and certainly not with Tidus. Only bemused. And now it grieved her that the two boy's friendship had been injured. The last thing she wanted to be was someone who brought disharmony into Tidus' life.

Somewhat to Yuna's relief, they talked no more of Gippal that evening. After washing down dinner with a glass of Bevellian plum wine, they retired to the living room, where Lulu promptly spread her heavy black skirts over the piano stool and awakened the keys of her instrument with long white fingers. She played a few traditional pieces for Yuna; _Via_ _Purifico_,_ Servants of the Mountain _and the haunting _Guadosalam_. The mage was an exceptional player, pouring all her soul and sorrow into the timeless melodies.

Yuna watched her interestedly, fascinated to finally gain an insight into how the beautiful ex-Guardian lived. Her house was full of things that did not seem to belong to her; bright things, men's things, like limited edition Blitzballs, gleaming trophies and plastic sports flags. There were traces of Wakka's life everywhere, but no mementos of Lulu's pilgramage, no Guardian's tools, not a whisper of Lady Ginnem left in her world. She remembered how Lulu had spoken of her shame and guilt that night in A-East. _How sad she must have been all those years._ Was there anything more tragic than a failed Summoner, a wasted life? Yuna wondered when Wakka might have first wandered into his wife's life, if he appeared suddenly like another Zanarkander she knew, like the sunlight in her gray. Perhaps they were not such an odd couple as she had first imagined.

Tidus was quick to break the maudlin mood that Lulu's playing inspired, searching out a _Sphere Break_ board and coaching Yuna in a game against the mage, whispering moves in her ear when she faltered, helping her cheat whenever he could then shamelessly denying it. She couldn't remember ever smiling so much.

Yuna was leafing through a volume on Blitzball regulations, found on Lulu and Wakka's ample bookshelves, when he cornered her again much later. _He's bored,_ she sensed immediately, with some amusement. Happily she reflected how easily she could read his face now, how well she was beginning to know his moods.

Her Blitzer seemed to take every opportunity to get in her space, leaning obtrusively over her shoulder to ascertain the book in her hands. "Taking up blitzing? Please, Yuna, I'm offended! Why don't you just ask the pro?"

She turned her neck and smiled, trying not to think about his proximity or the way his warm breath tickled the hairs on her neck. "You're right. Where _is_ Wakka?" She pretended to look around the room for the absent Abes coach, feeling suddenly playful.

Tidus' response was to tickle her mercilessly, grin promising revenge; Yuna laughed, the flared ends of her sleeves dancing as she fought him off.

"I'm not taking up Blitzball," she protested, a bit breathlessly, when she was a safe distance away from him, "but I _would_ like to understand what I'm watching. Lulu, may I borrow this?" She waved the book to the woman across the room.

Lulu had been watching them with an unreadable look in those ruby-coloured irises. "Of course," she said smoothly. "Take as many as you wish."

"Thankyou!" Yuna replied. Then she yawned. Her hand fluttered instantly over her mouth in embarassment, but Tidus only gave her an affectionate, knowing look.

"Come on Yuna," he said warmly. "I'll walk you home."

--

The night was still young in the City of Lights, of course, so Tidus and Yuna did not make their homeward journey alone. Adoring couples strolled alongside them on streets bathed in blue moonlight, hands entwined and heads close. Children, too, tugging tiredly on their mother's hands or else swaying atop their father's shoulders, stifling yawns.

Yuna begged her young guardian to stop for a few moments to listen to a jazz musician who was playing on the B-North road to her home. One of the things she missed most sorely from her island home was the simple pleasure of live music. Watching the golden-haired young man masterfully pluck melodies from his instrument, Yuna thought fondly of the beach concert that had been held on her seventeenth nameday.

The musician finished his song with a flourish, and Yuna tossed some _gil_ into his hat after generously applauding his piece. He bowed to her at the waist and winked, threads of his beaded blonde hair falling over his eyes. Tidus laughed and steered her away by the shoulders before she could be swept away by another song.

"You like that kind of music? I'll take you to C-East one day," he promised her, when they were far enough away that the musician's song was little more than a whisper. "The sunshine festival runs all month there. Plus I can get us in the VIP section, no sweat. Abes' perks."

He flashed her a smile so beautiful that she found it painful to point out, "Then, these concerts only play in the… day. In the sunshine." _When I must stay in the house, with Shelinda._

"Oh." Said Tidus, mirth sliding from his face as he realised his mistake. "Yeah. Guess not then."

The awkwardness was quick to set in after that. They walked in silence, suddenly two strangers amongst mothers and fathers and lovers. Yuna watched his handsome face and felt despairingly the distance that separated them. She sidled instinctively closer to his shoulder, wanting to be near to him in some way.

She wished she had the freedom to take his hand and hold it.

The favourite part of her day drew to a close all too suddenly as they arrived at those familiar iron gates. _I am beginning to hate the sight of them, _she realised. _Every day they look more like the bars of a prison._ Tidus helped her climb the first footholds and she clambered down the opposite side with as much grace as she could muster.

Yuna dusted her hands on her flower-printed skirts and thanked him for her evening. "Tomorrow, if you come, it must be before the lamplights are lit," she told him. She imagined it might be a little thoughtless of her to just _assume_ that he would come tomorrow, which is why she added the _if_. And yet, he had never missed a day.

When the Blitzer returned her request with a quizzical look, she explained, "Father will be coming home then."

"Ahh. Gotcha. I'll be--_arghhh_!"

Tidus leapt backwards at some unseen danger, Yuna forwards, all her nerves ablaze, assaulted by wild imaginings of thieves, or Shelinda awake or – _Yevon forbid!_ – her father come home early.

"What happened?!" she cried, eyes darting around the shadows for the source of his panic. "Tidus - what-"

"-I don't know, something just brushed—"

"-are you _okay_--"

"-what _is_ that?!-"

Two pairs of eyes fell on a small shadow now ghosting its way in and out of Tidus' legs. Only when the fireflies cast light on him did Kimahri reveal himself, mewing innocently as though he had been there all along.

"A _cat_?" Tidus said, disbelieving.

It was too much for Yuna. Her fear turned to blessed relief, arms clutching at her sides as she broke into peals of laughter. "A _kitten_, oh fearless star of the Zanarkand Abes!"

For a moment it was all Tidus could do to gape at her, all astonishment. He waited until her laughter finally subsided before commenting, "So she's sarcastic, now. I think we've been a bad influence on you, Yuna." But his eyes twinkled.

"Father brought Kimahri home from the Calm Lands," Yuna explained, her heart rate finally regaining its natural pace. "He likes you," she insisted.

"Uh-huh," said Tidus skeptically. "Kimahri, is it? Go on, little guy." He ushered the kitten towards her through the bars, where Kimahri went willingly into Yuna's waiting arms. She cradled the beast close, granting him the affection that Tidus had denied.

"Tomorrow, then," her Zanarkand boy promised. "Sleep sweet, Yuna."

When he was gone, Yuna kneeled and briefly traced the outline of a slumbering hibiscus with her finger, twin to the silver one dangling from her necklace. It burst into full bloom at the touch, filling the night air with perfume.

* * *

**--**

_**Tidus**_

**--**

He got back to the houseboat late. He had wandered, letting the streets that he loved so well guide him home rather than choose any conscious path. _Lights are on_, he noted absently. _Dad must be home._

He was right; even obliged to pass the sight of his old man snoring noisily on the sofa to reach his room at the back of the houseboat. It was surprisingly unchaotic for the room of a seventeen year old boy; Tidus sometimes thought he kept it so in order to balance the general disorder of his father's life. Tournament trophies lined his walls, along with vintage posters of famous Blitzers and more than a few busty female athletes. Al-Bhed trinkets cluttered his table-tops; presents from Rikku and Gippal, or else bought on a whim from some tacky A-East stall.

A commsphere sat by his bedside with photos tacked up around it; him with the Abes, when he had first made the team at sixteen; a giddy Rikku with an arm around Gippal, green eyes sparkling up at the camera; one from Wakka and Lulu's wedding and finally, a faded photograph of his mother. The left half of the photo, where his father had once featured, had been torn off by Tidus in a fit of fury after a particularly brutal war of words with Jecht.

His eyes grazed past the photo on his way to bed, as they always did, his mother's far-away eyes following him across the room. Tidus gratefully stripped off his shirt, freed his tired feet of their sneakers and collapsed spread-eagle on his sheets. Mottled reflections of the seawater stole through his window and played upon the ceiling. Tidus watched them idly, Yuna still on his mind.

It irritated him, that she had been forced to decline his invitation, but the anger was directed at the father rather than the daughter. Lulu might choose to berate her for keeping secrets from her old man, but Tidus understood more deeply than the mage ever could. And it occurred to him that he was the one to encourage the southern girl that she keep those secret, back when he first knew her.

While he lay there languidly replaying the evening's events in his head, a soft _thump_ resounded from the next room, like something heavy – and _human_ – meeting the ground. _Dad?_ he thought instantly._ I thought he was out cold on the sofa. _

It took some effort for Tidus to wrench himself away from the warmth of his bed, but visions of his old man lying in a puddle of his own drool were enough to rouse his sentiments as the dutiful son. The old Blitz washout had little enough dignity left as it was. As much as Tidus hated him, he didn't want to see him lose it altogether. _For Mom's sake, if not my own._

He padded barefoot to his father's room, cracked the door open. "Dad?" he whispered. He could just make out the glow of the sphere cupboard, hazy blue light spilling from its edges.

Tidus weighed his options. He was either saving his old man from a very painful mistake or setting himself up for a loud, drunken scolding. Or he could go just go back to bed.

He knotted his hands in his hair for a split second, wanting to smash his forehead against the door. _I can't do it, can I? _he agonised. _Can't leave the old bastard to his problems. _Tidus sighed, and pushed the door open.

"Hey, Dad?" he called softly. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the dark and the raw blue glow that permeated it. There was a figure standing in the doorway to the walk-in closet.

It wasn't his old man.

"Hey--!" Tidus called instinctively. "Who the hell are—"

The man launched himself at Tidus faster than he could think, the momentum carrying them both to the floor. The back of Tidus' head smacked painfully against the wood and for a moment his vision went dark.

When it cleared he found himself looking into a pair of Al-Bhed goggles. Tidus blinked up at his assailant, disorientated. Then his Blitzball training kicked in, awareness replacing shock. The man was taller than him by a head; but Tidus was the fastest Blitzer in Spira, and he had a punishing right hook. He demonstrated just that as he pulled his arm free and lunged for his attacker's eyes.

His fist connected, shattering the left lens. The Al-Bhed reared back in pain, clutching his face, and Tidus quickly followed, fear and adrenaline driving him forward to make another strike.

_Grab the goggles!_ he told himself. He thought that if he could just unmask the thief then they might run for fear of being recognised. He had just managed to hook a finger in the frames when another assailant came into view, grabbing Tidus' coiled fist and shackling it in a firm grip. _Gods, how many are there?!_ Tidus lunged at him, trying for a headbutt, but the combined strength of the two weakened his struggles easily.

The man he had just punched was cursing blackly – in Spiran, not an Al-Bhed after all – and when he had adjusted his broken goggles he took his vengeance on Tidus.

Tidus felt his lip split open, blood trickling down his chin. Black spots danced before his eyes as his head collided with the wooden floor once again, and his muscles tensed, expecting another blow.

It never came.

The weight of the two men left him in an instant, and somewhere in all the blood and confusion his father's voice roared out.

Somewhere, glass shattered. Tidus managed to raise himself on his elbows in time to see his father throw one of the men to the floor, before rounding on the next, nostrils flaring like some untamed beast. "What the _HELL_ are you bastards doing on my boat?! Get out, before _I KILL you_!" Jecht bellowed, face a thunderhead. "Don't you _dare_ touch my son! GET _OUT_!"

If goggles could reflect fear, Tidus would have seen them quake with it. One of the trespassers was already leaping through the harbour window, a _crash_ of water confirming his clumsy exit. The others – there had been three in total, he realised blearily – were not far behind, but they could not seem to move fast enough for Jecht, who wrestled the last bodily to the window.

Soon all that could be heard was the ragged breath of his father and the distant splash of the thieves retreating on the water. The sharp shooting pain of his split lip finally kicked in, or atleast he finally acknowledged it, and he lifted a hand to wipe the blood away from his chin. That was when Jecht's murderous gaze finally settled upon him, eyes filled with hellfire.

Tidus sat frozen before him. He'd never seen that look in his father's eyes before. _Never_.

"Are you alright, boy?"

"F-Fine…" Tidus rasped out. Jecht seemed to bring himself under control then, eyes softening, almost with – what, _concern_? - as he walked towards Tidus, wrapped his hand around his arm and hauled him roughly to his feet. Tidus could only stand numbly, stunned into silence, as his father brushed debris from his son's arms. He found himself shaking, but not from fear. _What is he… why is he doing this?_

"Hey, boy. _Boy_." Jecht waited until his son met his eyes, then spoke firmly, "You're alright. Alright? Pull it together. Come on n' we'll get ya cleaned up."

Tidus let himself be guided to the kitchen, wondering if he might be dreaming. The attackers, the ruined spheres, the blood on his face – all faded beneath his father's hand pushing lightly on his shoulder, a touch of restrained tenderness that he had not felt in ten long years.

* * *

**--**

_**Yuna**_

**--**

"Shelinda… how do you know when you're in love?"

The hairbrush halted mid-stroke. The ex-Acolyte gave her a surprised look in the mirror. "Who are you in love with, Miss Yuna?"

"No one," sighed Yuna. "I just want to know how you know."

She had anticipated a better response. Orginally Yuna had hoped that this evening ritual of hair-brushing might become a bonding exercise, an opportunity to know the ex-Acolyte better. That hope had faded when it became clear that Shelinda would not overstep her boundaries as a servant and inferior.

They had spent the afternoon at the old Yevon temple in C-West, a true city treasure with its ancient, crumbling towers and lost prayers carved into its stone. Tourists from southern Spira flooded to the spot – mostly from Luca, though Yuna had recognised more than a few Kilikan drawls – to snap at its features with expensive-looking _machina_. Yuna had no such equipment; she preferred to lock such things in her memory, the same way she had carried with her the beloved image of Besaid's hidden waterfall, and the shape of her mother's memorial stone in Bevelle.

Now as the day drew quietly to an end, Yuna had retired to her chambers, waiting for the time when she could go down to the garden. Flames crackled in the small fireplace to stave off the night's chill. Usually she preferred Kimahri to warm her toes, but he had been sent from the room; Shelinda had insisted she was allergic to the feline, and recoiled whenever the beast came near. _As though he were some ten foot Ronso,_ Yuna thought with a sense of exasperation, _not a kitten a tenth her size._

"The Scrolls of Yevon tell us," Shelinda recited, "that that which we love for a purpose is blighted by desire. If our desire is only to keep them we will lose that which it is we love."

"I see." _The same Yu Yevon who spread his evil lies and brought tragedy to Spira for a thousand years, you mean?_ Yuna thought tiredly. The reply saddened her. Shelinda had once devoted her whole being to a false religion. It seemed a part of her could never return from that. She winced as Shelinda caught a tangle in her hair, and wearily expressed her wishes to retire for the night.

"You will not be taking a midnight sup this evening then, Miss Yuna?"

"No, Shelinda."

"For if you tell me now, you see, I will be able to prepare it in advance." There was a hint – just the slightest hint - of irritation in her voice.

"No thankyou, Shelinda. I wasn't planning-"

"Only it rather frightens me when I hear you downstairs at night. If you could _warn_ me, it would be the smallest inconvenience to prepare you a light supper."

"I _am_ sorry, Shelinda," Yuna persisted weakly. "I promise, I _will_ tell you next time."

The maid bowed at the waist as she left the room, but Yuna just bowed her head, blowing her bangs out of her eyes with a sigh. _I suppose I couldn't expect it to be easy forever,_ she thought ruefully. _I will just have to be even quieter when I go into Zanarkand._

She urged the troubles to the back of her mind and instead set to devouring _Tackling the game: styles, tactics and rules of modern day Blitzball_. She read a whole chapter on volley shots ("always keep your eye on the target!") before her eyelids began to feel heavy.

She tucked the book under her mattress. She could likely explain it away with a white lie if Shelinda happened upon it, but her father was a different story. _Why does he dislike Blitzball so?_ she had to wonder again. The violence of the game could hardly shock a master of the _katana_, surely. Is it possible he associated some cruel memory with the sport? Or worse, perhaps there was a rogue player in their midst, past or present, that he had a personal grievance against? _Shall I ever know his secrets?_ Sighing, Yuna dismissed the unpleasant question. To muse upon the mystery for too long would likely drive her to madness. Besides, she had secrets too, and they were most assuredly not for Auron's ears.

Fireflies guided her way through the garden to the wrought iron gate. He had been waiting for her, it seemed, his slim profile forming a familiar silhouette against the night streets of Zanarkand. A quiet greeting, a rattle of metal, and Tidus had climbed easily over the gate with his athlete's grace.

She gasped the moment his face came into view. It bore more than just the marks of his quarrel with Gippal; now he sported a dark, wicked-looking bruise on his cheekbone and a broken, bloody lip. He looked like he had just come back from the Crusaders.

"What _happened_?" she asked, heart trembling.

Yuna let him speak as he recounted the astonishing events of the evening past, nerves on edge when he divulged his struggle with the house-thieves. Yet curiously this part of the story seemed to upset herself more than him; he lingered instead on his father's part in the drama, and the brief glimpse of affection he had shown his son. Though such behaviour seemed natural to Yuna, who had been cherished from childhood, Tidus seemed genuinely troubled by it, unable to comprehend why his father had acted in such a way.

The Blitz star was pacing the length of the garden now, head bowed, hands clutching his golden hair in an agonised hold. "I just don't _understand_ him, Yuna. Sometimes I feel like he wishes I'd never been born… and sometimes I think that maybe… just maybe…"

"Tidus, are you crying?"

"_No_," he scoffed.

"Tidus--"

"I'm not, okay? I just have something in my eye." As she had feared, he turned away from her, locking his grief from her view.

Yuna watched his back, the barely perceptible shaking of his shoulders, and felt an invisible hand compress her heart. She followed him, naked feet whispering along the untamed grass and rested her hand on his arm, as light and as tentative as the brush of a pyrefly.

Tears were leaking from those ever-blue eyes, unforeseen rain from a place where there had once been only sunshine.

He met her gaze again with some effort, the moon casting a timid light over his dear face. "My old man… always told me I was a crybaby. Guess he was right."

"Don't say such things," she whispered fiercely. Her throat was dry, unable to articulate a heart aching for his suffering. Bravely, she clutched a corner of one long, dusty pink sleeve, lifting the gauze to his eyes, and began to gently brush away the tremble of tears.

It happened in a flash, quick and unexpected like summer lightening. His hands, slipping around her back to encircle her waist, pulling her roughly against him.

It was like the day she had fallen from the garden gate and found herself paralyzed in Tidus' arms before she had time to breathe; suddenly she was crushed against his chest, his cheek resting upon her head and his tears falling into her hair.

A lifetime of fatherly embraces had not prepared Yuna for this moment, wrapped in the arms of this child, this boy, this stranger who had swept into her life like the tides on dry shores. It stirred something deep and dangerous inside her, something that she had been trying so hard to keep hidden.

Yet she wanted this, had dreamed of this. Her fingers curled and stretched like the petals of a flower, stilling in place over his heart. Gingerly, she leaned into his embrace and hoped desperately that he couldn't hear her heart beating_._

"You don't have to be so brave in front of me, you know," she whispered into his chest, finally finding her voice. "It's only me. Yuna, remember? The girl who got lost in the first street she walked down."

Ragged laughter choked out of him at that, and Yuna, encouraged, felt a swell of determination. _It has always been I, _she realised, _seeking his reassurance, grabbing at his footsteps. I never imagined that I had anything to give him in return. _Perhaps she could not find the courage to tell him how much he meant to _her_, but she could atleast find the courage to return the friendship that he had so selflessly offered her.

"Back on Besaid," she began, "when I was a little girl, there was an old married couple who used to sell starfruit in the village." Yuna found the old, familiar tale slipping from her tongue unthinkingly. The subject was so delicate that a story seemed to her the wisest way to broach it. "It always seemed as though he treated her very ill. He would raise his voice to her in the market, snap at her when she spoiled the local children with free slices. I used to feel very sorry for her. My father disapproved too, I think, but he said we must leave them be. One day, while out walking, she was drawn into the sand dunes. I remember because they called my father to help. I had to stand far back with the other women, and I watched. When they finally drew her out, her husband held her and wept and wept. It frightened me, the way he cried, you know? He carried her home in his arms."

Tidus had grown steadily calmer as she spoke, the tension draining from his body, the cruel torrent of tears slowly ebbing. "Some people, they just… express their affection in strange ways." She bit her lower lip, thoughtful, and offered, "You should just sit with him sometimes."

"What?" he asked softly.

"Your father," she explained. "You don't always have to talk, you know?" She was thinking of her own father, and the quiet afternoons they shared by Besadian waterfalls. In her own heart she felt impatient for Auron's return.

Tidus didn't reply to her proposal. He took a deep, shuddering breath that she felt beneath her fingertips, an obvious effort to bring himself under control at last. "You can't tell anyone I cried," he said finally, half-jokingly, lips against her hair. "Especially Gippal."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she smiled. Suddenly unafraid, she held him tighter.

They parted when the lights of Zanarkand came to life around them, blinking on one by one as though heralding her father's homecoming. Yuna untangled herself from Tidus with a sense of awkwardness - the inhibitions that had left her for one exquisite moment suddenly came flooding back, that dreadful shyness sweeping through her like an affliction.

As though sensing Auron's impending arrival, Tidus climbed the gate with some haste, his trainers hitting the ground on the other side with an audible _smack_. But he made no immediate move to leave. Instead he caught up her hand through the bars and threaded their fingers together for an all-too-brief moment. "Yuna," he whispered, his voice rough. "_Thankyou_."

Yuna watched him leave in a state of dizziness; mind a furious blur of emotions she could barely recognise, let alone rein in. Somehow she managed to fumble her way to the doorstep, where she sat down to wait for Auron, and wonder just how much trouble her heart was in.

* * *

**--**

_**Auron**_

**--**

_Zanarkand is growing on me,_ thought Auron. While he had never seen the metropolis through Yuna's starry eyes, he had began to feel a kind of solace in the call of The Sleepless City's amber lights.

The bustling streets of B-North were a far cry from Besaid's slumbering shores; Auron passed whole families still making merry in the small hours of the morning. He found himself enjoying the company, even smiling to himself when children pointed disbelievingly at the heavy and imposing _katana_ strapped to his back. He observed fathers calling them away with gentle words, yet felt no envy. After all, he was a father, too.

Auron's mood darkened, of course, when he crossed paths with a young bleach-blonde Blitzer. Blitzball; the one feature of the city that he could never embrace, and could never escape. Its followers were everywhere, like a plague; around every corner, cocky and always ostentatiously dressed, not willing to go unnoticed. And where they were not, their symbols were, emblazoned on schoolboys' satchels or pinned to the robes of pretty admirers. Or worse, _tattooed_, scrawled black insignias on skin, that seemed to Auron more a blemish than a badge of honour. Jecht had worn one, of course. _That he and I_ _never cross paths,_ he prayed, and almost made the sign of Yevon; a lost habit from his days in the temples of Bevelle.

Auron employed every warrior's trick to enter his garden unnoticed – Zanarkand might be sleepless, but his daughter was not. And so his heart almost skipped a beat when he saw her standing there.

For a moment he would have sworn he saw a Fayth in the place of his daughter; a pale, bright beauty; some distant, holy thing. Her white skin shone in the dark night air. He blinked, and she became his daughter again; that little girl with sand between her toes, drawing seabirds for him or running to his lap with new bruises. She had been playing with the kitten on the doorstep, but had come to her feet when she heard the screech of the black iron gate.

"Yuna," he said as he swiftly approached her, "you shouldn't be outside at this hour. Has something happened?"

He opened his arms just in time for her to glide into them. "Nothing happened, father," she assured him. "I just missed you." Her last words were muffled as she buried her nose into the crimson shade of his overcoat.

Auron, so touched by her sincerity, was moved to kiss the top of her head, where the waves of her soft brown hair radiated outwards. With a sense of incomparable comfort, the old warrior took in the smell that was undeniably _home_; hibiscus, his daughter's freshly washed hair, and the faintest trace of Besaid's golden sands. He could not account for her affectionate mood, but was reassured by the warmth of her welcome.

They held each other for some time in the safety of the garden. In that moment, Auron could see their future together stretched out before him, one long and loving. _Unbreakable, _he convinced himself.

This happy vision, one they both so deserved, lasted until she said, "You're the most wonderful father in the whole of Spira, and I wanted to make sure you knew it. I'm so glad you're my father."

Then Yuna scooped the kitten into her arms, gathered her skirts and tiptoed back into the house, never suspecting that if she had only chanced to look back, she would have seen Auron's face distorted with pain.

* * *

_**--**_

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_**--**_

**IT'S FOUR IN THE MORNING AND I'M FINALLY UPLOADING THIS. Don't say I don't love you guys.  
**

**I'm sorry. I know I take a ridiculous amount of time to update. I'm just naturally not a fast writer. It doesn't mean I'm giving up on this piece. I intend to finish it! Anyway, you can thank Phoebe Caulfield, Lilac Broderick and whitephoenix33 for giving me that extra push to finish this before the end of the month!**

**I wasn't happy with this chapter despite how long it took to finish. There was a lot of repetition, I think. I'm never happy with the latest chapter I write. It's a tradition now. **

**Soooo… people who are asking about when Yuna will discover Auron's secrets, and when Tidus might come to his senses. Well, I have a lot of fic to go, and logically I don't want to wrap up all my plot points too quickly. Can't spend all my drama in one chapter! **

**I've done a first revision of some of the earlier chapters, but it's an ongoing process. I also VERY roughly plotted the rest of the story to the end, which was twenty chapters in total. Don't laugh. I know I took about three years to get to eight chapters, but I WILL finish so help me Yu Yevon!**

**Next chapter: Blitzball, bonding, Lulu's perspective, perhaps some new cameos and some plot pushing.**

* * *

**REVIEW REPLIES**

**Lilac Broderick** – Gippal has indeed been up to something, though whether he remembered it in the morning is a different story! Tidus/Yuna cuteness is my inspiration for every single chapter, so you can be sure there'll be more.

**Phoebe Caulfield** – Thankyou, after reading your review I brought up the chapter and wrote and wrote until steam rose from the keyboard! You're right; Auron doesn't think of Yuna as an adult in the slightest, and he's troubled by every sign she shows of growing into one. And it's going to get much worse. Lulu is a useful character to have on-hand; a motherly figure that Yuna can confide in. Auron's own choice of mother figure, Shelinda, is less successful as a confidante, as you can see.

**Androk1**– There, you see; trouble, talk, tears and tiyuna sweetness; I hope I delivered for you!

**Aimedmischief **– Thankyou, glad you enjoyed it! Please read the next one too!

**JessRoryYunaTidusForever **– Happy to have a new reader, especially one that leaves reviews, thankyou! Sorry for the wait, but I hope the tiyuna moments made up for it.

**Yunalesca13 **– Ha ha, thanks, I'm glad it inspires such a range of emotions for you! Sorry the update took so long!

**TgIiDgUiS **– Thanks, I will! Happy to hear you're enjoying it! Please keep reviewing!

**Whitephoenix33 **– You always notice little things I sneak in, thankyou! Yes, the girl at the bar was Paine. I think that might be her only cameo in this story though, unless I find another use for her. And no, Yuna does not know about Lord Braska. Why? - The first clues are in this chapter. You have to remember that this is an alternate universe, and the characters have alternate pasts. Thanks for the little push you gave me last week.

**FrozenDragon **– I don't intend to bring in a full-on Eponine. I'm just not interested in Tidus having another love interest. But Rikku is going to fulfil one of Eponine's roles in a future chapter. And I tried to bring in more Tiyuna in this chapter, hope it was enough for you! There'll be plenty more coming up.

**Sam **– Thankyou Sam, you are another one of my most faithful reviewers, I can't tell you how grateful I am for that. And yes, the central sphery problem is certainly emerging and should take center stage very soon!

**Randomblahs **– Hee, you're right, I definitely need some drama! I'm not good at drama, though. I'll give it my best shot for ya. Auron might find out one day, but it might not be Yuna that tells him. Bwahahahahaha.

**Defining Aerith** – Don't be worried, I'm not giving up on this story anytime soon! The updates are long and laborious – mostly because of the detail you mentioned! - but they will keep coming. OTP over here too ; )

**Nya-Miko** – Thankyou for saying it's prettily-written! I endeavor to write prettily, especially during Yuna's perspectives as she's such a sweet character.

**Sandler **– Thankyou for writing such a detailed review, it honestly makes my day to read such lovely things. You're right; together in a day they are most definitely not; Yuna, however, is moving closer towards those feelings than Tidus. I would hate for this story to remain uncompleted too; especially as I've already written the ending. I do take a ridiculously long time to update, but writing doesn't come as quickly and easily to me as some people. I wish I had that gift! But yeah, I'm a grammar nazi when it comes to fanfiction, too. There's no excuse!

**Chocopie4 **– Sorry this chapter took so long. As for what's next I will say… read and find out!

**KashiiandKureji **– Thankyou, I'm glad you like the writing style – keeping up that style is what makes these updates so slow! Lots more TidusxYuna to come, that I can promise.

**JaimeCrow **– Thanks, hope you enjoyed the update! Sorry it was so late.

**Kimberly **– Thanks Kimberly! Personally I think I need a bit more drama, but I'm glad to hear you like what I have so far!

**MinnieMouse8990 **– You're right, Zanarkand is quite the magical setting. I love that it's such a huge metropolis that it's easy to be lost in it; that's going to be a significant plot point in the future. Thanks for your compliments, and I will continue to teach you new things about the characters in every chapter, I hope!


	10. Chapter 9: Risking the Tale

* * *

"Meanwhile the clouds drifted above their heads. When the wind blows it blows away more human dreams than clouds in the sky."

_Part Four, Book Eight: Enchantment and Despair, I: Broad Daylight_

_**Les Misérables – Victor Hugo**_

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE: Risking The Tale**

**--**

_**Lulu**_

**--**

The long-anticipated match between the Zanarkand Abes and the Bevelle Bells had left the great stadium packed full to bursting, and Lulu's box was no exception.

Rikku had opted to bring her brother along for starters, an excitable young man who spoke in a near incoherent hybrid language of Al-Bhed and mispronounced Spiran. Gippal had also made a reappearance – after some coaxing from Rikku, no doubt – and had even recruited some friends from his old New Yevon days. There was Baralai, a handsome young noble who swept back his silvery-bright hair with a blue bandana, soft-spoken Isaaru who lingered at his friend's shoulder like a nervous shadow, and Barthello, a blocky ex-Guardian who Lulu knew from her travels as a girl.

Yuna came prepared this time, looking every bit the zealous Blitz enthusiast. Her modest outfit had been cobbled together by Rikku; a summer-light Abes shirt with layers of white and rose and a pair of dark blue capris. Not only did she look the part, but she played it too, wildly waving the cheap paper flag that Rikku had bought her, and whistling with her fingers noisily and often. A cheer taught to her by Tidus, Lulu had later learned.

"Oh! Oh!" chirped Rikku, bouncing on her toes, barely able to rein in her excitement. "Did you see that wither shot?"

"That was definitely a five-pointer!" Yuna celebrated at her side.

That amused Lulu. "Shouldn't you be cheering for the Bevelle Bells, Yuna?" she pointed out. "You were born there, were you not?"

Yuna had the grace to blush while she fumbled helplessly for a reply, but Rikku saved her, in any case.

"Nah, she's one of us now!" the Al-Bhed announced, favouring the older girl with a healthy slap on the back. Anyone who witnessed the tremulous smile Yuna gave her in return would have known that Rikku could have bestowed no greater compliment.

_It is lovely to see her eyes so bright._ Not unlike Tidus, Lulu had felt a natural protectiveness of the young Sender from the first. Yuna carried all the grief of a Summoner; Lulu had once shared that burden, and the Guardian in her understood the measure of sadness in the girl's eyes. _Her young heart is filled with life_, Lulu knew,_ yet she dances to the tune of the Dead. _It made for an exceptional kind of person, and Yuna was just that.

Brother and Baralai seemed to think so too, taking every opportunity to engage the mysterious young foreigner in conversation. But though she spoke politely to them, Yuna could rarely be appealed upon to divert her attention from the Blitzball field, and in particular the star of the Zanarkand Abes.

Oh, Lulu could see what was happening there. _Any fool could._ The light and laughter that drove the sadness from the Sender's fair face when _he_ was near to her was as plain as day. _T__he whiteness of a young girl's soul resembles snow: it melts in the warmth of love, which is its sun_, Lulu remembered_._ She had read that once, not in the scrolls of Yevon, but in the travel diaries of a Lucan Guardian who lived hundreds of years ago. He had watched his young Summoner abandon her pilgrimage for love, and never once blamed her for it. When Lulu was a Guardian girl in training, she had thought it a fool thing to do, fool and selfish, but after Lady Ginnem died she understood in a heartbeat. The understanding came too late, though, far too late…

The crowd roared, shattering Lulu's melancholy, and she returned to herself just in time to catch the Abes scoring the winning goal. Rikku launched herself at Yuna in a golden blur, wrapping her in a great thundering bear hug which Brother did his best to breach. Barthello was cheering too, an inarticulate masculine roar which drowned out the two young girls both. Isaaru was less pleased; he was not from Zanarkand and favoured the Bevelle Bells. But when the Praetor laid a hand on his shoulder he seemed to concede defeat gracefully. _Baralai has a calming affect, it seems, _the mage observed, _not unlike our Yuna._

Lulu turned to Gippal beside her, who was taking pains to keep that trademark smirk off his face, no doubt happy for the ace of the Zanarkand Abes but unwilling to show it so soon after their quarrel.

"You should make amends with him," Lulu advised the Al-Bhed, though quietly enough so that only he could hear. "I'm going to see Wakka now. Perhaps you would like to accompany me?"

For a split second Gippal seemed to truly contemplate it, a rare solemnity visible in the swirls of his green eyes, but finally he seemed to think better of the idea and went to join Baralai and Isaaru.

_Very well, _Lulu conceded as she watched him walk away_._ She did not intend to push him further than he was ready for. It was not her way.

"Girls," she called instead, and smiled when the twin happy faces of Rikku and Yuna turned to meet her. _They are growing more alike every day. _"Wait here in the box. I'm going to see if the boys are ready to go."

Lulu found her husband in the dressing rooms of the Zanarkand Abes. A mob of miniature Zanarkanders had besieged him, begging for autographs and spheres and even future places on Spira's legendary team. She watched with a strange and tempered longing in her heart as Wakka ruffled tiny blonde heads and handed out blue-and-gold Blitzballs peppered with the Abes insignia. The starstruck mob brushed past Lulu's skirts as they spilled from the room and left her alone with her husband at last.

"One step closer to the Finals," she told him when she reached his side. Lulu was not given to public affection, but in the privacy of his dressing room she bestowed a soft kiss on her husband's cheek. Wakka accepted gracefully and was about to return the gesture with enthusiasm when another intruder appeared at the door.

"Hey, Lulu," Tidus interrupted carelessly, oblivious to the glare he was receiving from his Coach. "The girls enjoy the game?"

"I can no longer tell Yuna apart from Rikku," Lulu told him dryly, and watched as he grinned like a fool.

Lulu contemplated the shape of his smile, wondering what thoughts might lie behind that handsome young face. Yuna was all for him, that was clear, but Tidus' feelings were less transparent. Sometimes he treated the girl like a child, the next he played the jealous lover. He had called her "just a friend", but he gazed at her like she was some cherished possession. _Perhaps it is time for a litte push in the right direction._

"Listen," Tidus was saying, "We're gonna have a quick strategy meeting since it looks like we'll be playing the Psyches next. Plus, I gotta catch a shower before I go. Can you take the girls into A-East and we'll meet you there?"

"As you wish," Lulu accepted, leaving her husband's embrace to glide towards the door. "But don't keep Yuna waiting too long. She's gained a few more admirers tonight, I fear."

"What?" The smile slithered from the Blitzer's face. "What admirers?"

Lulu smiled, and shut the door behind her. There had been a rather satisfying hint of alarm in his voice, she decided. _Yes, very satisfying indeed..._

* * *

--

_**Yuna**_

--

"Well? What do we think, ladies?"

"I don't know, Lulu." Rikku seemed skeptical, squinting suspiciously at a sign that read, '_The future laid bare! Have your fortune read by our Hypello soothsayer!_' "Do you really believe in that stuff?"

Yuna herself was enchanted by the idea. The Hypello's den seemed infinitely charming, surrounded by a splendour of cloth that seemed to welcome every corner of Spira. She spotted rich Bevellian drapes overlapping simple Kilikan weaves and Lucan crochets mingling with wisps of silk the colour of a Maclanian lake. Yuna even noticed a star-shaped creation of Besaidian coloured beads amongst all the finery, the same kind she wore in her hair.

"I am never certain of anything," Lulu replied simply.

Yuna did not miss the way Lulu's hand brushed her black-clad stomach. _She wants to know if her child is coming,_ Yuna realised, remembering the mage's words that starry and unfortunate evening outside Rin's Tavern. _Wakka and I are hoping for a child someday_, she had said_._ That made Yuna's mind up.

"I will go," she announced, surprising her two companions with her sudden show of audacity. "But… I think you should go first, Lulu. To give me courage."

Lulu gave her a knowing look, as though she had guessed exactly what Yuna's true reasoning might be. The black mage could be very perceptive. "Very well," the older woman conceded, the shadow of a smile on her lips. "The eldest should lead the way, after all."

Yuna and Rikku lingered outside while Lulu sought her fortune. They had parted ways with Gippal and his friends back at the stadium; Yuna suspected the Al-Bhed boy hadn't yet made amends with Tidus. _Watching Tidus play from a distance is one thing, but a closer meeting is quite another. _Brother had gone too, though only after some shooing from his little sister, who had insisted they were going to do "girl stuff." He was a sweet boy, really, though half the time Yuna did not understand what he was saying, and he did have the most disconcerting tendancy to stare.

Yuna, reclining on the carpeted canvas, glanced upwards at the skinny Al-Bhed at her side, searching her face for a sibling resemblance. Rikku was on her feet, looking suspiciously at the curtain behind which Lulu had disappeared.

"Will you have your fortune told too, Rikku?" Yuna asked.

"… Nah," Rikku said after a thoughtful pause. "Pops never liked all that magical stuff. I guess it rubbed off on me. Do _you_ believe in it, Yunie?"

Yuna smiled fondly. "You know," she told the younger girl, taking her hand and tugging her gently down beside her on the patchwork of colours, "They say the Hypello came from the sea, thousands of years ago. Magic flowed through their blue veins and they saw the future as easily as we see the sun and sky. They lived in an ancient underwater palace, and were ruled over by a great Queen."

"Queen?" Rikku seemed unconvinced as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Not a King?"

"Of course a Queen!" teased Yuna. "Why should it be a King?"

"Because it's _always_ a King," Rikku protested. "Yu Yevon was a King. He fought against a King. And it was _Lord_ Braska who defeated Sin."

"Well, this one was a Queen," Yuna assured her. "Now, the Queen had two sons, who both deeply revered the human world. The eldest Prince envied the wealth of the humans on the land, their precious stones and polished gold coins. But the other son, the youngest, loved them for their beauty, and was brought to his doom by a human girl. Every night she would sit by the river and wash her hair with the dust of golden moonlillies."

"Was she from Macalania?" Rikku wanted to know. Macalania was where most of Spira's Hypellos had settled, the wet climate suited to their slick scaly skin. But Yuna could not answer.

"The lands had different names in those days," she explained. "But it may be so, because her hair was as dark as cinders. She sang while she washed it, and her song was said to be so lovely that every night the young Hypello Prince came to the surface to hear it, though it was forbidden."

"He fell in _lovvve!_" Rikku chimed, clapping her hands together in delight.

"Just so. Now, the Queen was a shrewd and sympathetic creature, and she could sense each of her sons' pain deeply. She summoned them to her, and told them she would grant each of them passage to the human world, but only if their motives were pure. Both sons accepted her offer."

Rikku chewed her bottom lip, frowning thoughtfully. "Not good," she decided. "The old Prince only wanted to go up there for money and jewels. What happened when he accepted?"

"He became the first Shoopuff," Yuna revealed, "forced to become a beast of burden, to carry the humans and their wealth he envied so foolishly across the Moonflow forever. That is why to this day the Hypello ride them, carrying out the ancient punishment of their Queen."

"But the other Prince got his wish, right? 'Cause his reasons were all pure and shiny!"

Yuna nodded. "She granted his wish, and gifted him with breath to taste the air and strong legs to walk on land. But to pay for it she took from him his clairvoyance, for she did not want him to see his future."

"Why? What was his future? Did the girl fall in love with him too? She did, right?"

"That's another story," Yuna said, "You wouldn't like it. It's too sad."

"But… but what happened to the rest of the Hypello?" Rikku asked.

Yuna was considering how to answer when another voice interjected. "Some followed the youngest son," it said, "rising into the land for love of the human world and those who lived in it."

"Lulu!"

The ex-Guardian emerged into the evening light, her black dress harsh against the vibrance of the curtain at her back. "But those who went for the wrong reasons became Shoopuff. The others…" She shrugged a graceful shoulder. "Some say they still live in the Moonflow, invisible to the human eye." The mage turned to Yuna, a smile tickling at her lips. "Well, Yuna, it is your turn. You had best make haste. I told him a lovely young girl was his next customer."

Yuna hesitated as Rikku began to bombard Lulu with questions about her reading. _She_ wanted to know what the mage had learned, too. Her face was as beautiful and as unreadable as ever, her scarlet eyes revealing neither pain nor pleasure. _Whatever she was told, it is for her to know, and her alone_, she decided finally, and abandoned Lulu to Rikku's inquisition.

As soon as Yuna ducked beneath the Hypello's curtain, a plethora of scents enveloped her. A half-circle of candles glittered softly in a small grotto, smelling like sea salt and musty books, like fresh rain and naked steel, rotting leaves and old perfume. All the scents that Yuna knew, and too many that she didn't. In the midst of it all sat a wizened old Hypello, cross-legged and swaying back and forth like a wave on a gentle summer's sea. His arms and legs were as skinny as a needle, and the puff of his cheeks set his face in a permenent serene smile. There was a Sphere set before him, shimmering with shadows.

When Yuna took a tentative step forward, the little beast blinked his filmy yellow eyes curiously at her. "Yesh, yesh," it said in a weathered, otherworldly voice. "Come forward, little moon."

Yuna knelt before him on the patchwork cloth almost reverently, stretching out her hands for him to take before she even realised what she had done. It was something akin to what she had felt in the presence of Belgemine; the far-reaching wisdom in that old woman's eyes had never failed to stir Yuna's heart. _The Fayth have gone from Spira, and the majesty of the Aeons too, but there are still things of wonder here, _she realised. It seemed to Yuna that a tremble of magic ran through her hands under the unearthly cold of the Hypello's long fingers. All of a sudden the fanciful tale she had taught Rikku did not seem so unlikely.

"Ah, _yesh, yesh,_"the old Hypello murmured as his rubbery fingers danced across her palms. "The Shummoner's blood in her."

"I'm a Sender," Yuna replied, confused. _How is this supposed to work?_ she wondered. _Perhaps I should ask him a question first._ "Can you tell me about my mother?" she blurted, the words spilling from her lips before she had a chance to check them. Half of her felt instantly as though she was betraying her father just by asking, but she wanted to know so sorely.

The Hypello only blinked at her, that unsettling little smile still fixed upon his face. His hands led hers to the Sphere, and together they looked down into it.

At first Yuna saw only shadows, a thunderstorm trapped in glass. But then the shadows parted, and Yuna leaned towards the Sphere to see a sun rising over a deep silvery lake, and an inexorable surge of joy rose in her heart. Then the sun fled and she glimpsed a little boy all in blue, sobbing, his tears running ragged and terrible. When Yuna looked into his eyes she knew that his heart was broken.

Soon the images were moving too fast for her to follow; she saw a monk drinking greedily from a Sphere then shattering it in his fist, saw a withered flower thrown upon a woman's grave, and a child crush a patch of hibiscus underfoot. She saw Tidus smiling sweetly, saw thunder splitting the sky, saw her father with two eyes, one warm and brown and loving and the other dark and clouded and full of sorrows. She saw places that were as familiar to her as the sun and as distant to her as the moon; she saw a Blitzball washing up on Besaid sands, saw a Summoning Staff falling in a grand green field, saw a broken harp in a dark forest, and the lights blinking on one by one in the Great Stadium.

Then the torrent ebbed… and a single blurred face remained. A man's face, with features vaguely familiar to Yuna; kind eyes, long dark hair and splendid robes of plum and crimson. _I should __**know**__ him,_ Yuna thought, _he looks almost like…_ but when he opened his lips to speak his secrets, the Hypello's withered fingers closed over the Sphere and the man vanished.

Yuna pulled her hands away, nerves aflutter. "Why?" she asked the little beast. "Why did you do that?" Suddenly she remembered the story she had told Rikku, about the Hypello Queen not wishing her son to know his future, and felt a shiver run through her.

The Hypello tilted his head, contemplating her. "Little moon," he said simply. "Big cloud."

When the creature resumed its hypnotic swaying, Yuna knew that it was time for her to leave.

Outside the grotto, Tidus was waiting for her, smiling. He was still decked out in full Blitz uniform; arm-guard, black leather gloves and a silver Abes chain faithfully around his neck. His hair looked newly towel-dried, too, rogue beads of water still clinging to it tenaciously. Yuna could feel her cheeks warm. There was something intimidating about him when he came to her like this, still with that dangerous Blitzer edge.

"So what's in your cards, Yuna?" he asked casually, one foot propped up against the wall behind him. "Fame, fortune, a tall handsome stranger?"

_I've already met one of those, _she thought, but what she said was, "None of those things."

"You sure about that?" One slim blonde eyebrow lifted. "I heard you met some of Gippal's friends."

"Oh," she blurted. "Yes." In truth, Yuna had quite forgotten them. Isaaru had seemed too shy to converse with her, and Barthello by nature seemed a man of few words. The Praetor had been handsome and softly-spoken, and even said that her calling as a Sender was "most noble", but compared to the sunshine of Tidus' smile, Baralai's seemed a mere candle. _In the Sphere, I saw Tidus smiling… does that mean he is in my future?_

"New Yevon are bad news," he told her, pushing away from the wall. "You should be careful around them."

_Now he sounds like father. _"Is Brother dangerous too?" she teased.

Tidus snorted. "Only to himself."

Yuna clasped her hands behind her back, watching him. "The game was wonderful. That shot in the third quarter was amazing!"

"Oh… Yeah." As quickly as that, Tidus' confidence fled and became bashfulness as he ran a hand through the gold confusion of his hair. "That was actually, uh… that was my Dad's shot. I mean, my old man's." He barked a laugh. "He used to call it 'The Magnificent Jecht Shot Mark III.'"

Yuna smiled, knowing his sudden shyness was connected with his father. They hadn't talked about the evening that Auron came home, though Yuna thought of it near every night. Tidus seemed embarassed by his outburst, and though Yuna knew that tears were no shame, she had no desire to broach such a delicate topic when his feelings were still in danger of being bruised.

No, she was content just to keep his company, staying close to his side as they sampled the delights of the A-East Plaza, Rikku skipping ahead of them and Wakka and Lulu tailing behind, arm in arm.

Infact, Lulu seemed more affectionate with her husband than ever, and Yuna found herself wondering for the second time that evening what her friend might have seen in the Hypello's Sphere. _And Lulu might understand what __**I**__ saw if I told her._ The mage seemed to have a deep sight. Her father did, too, but it was unlikely that she'd ever have an opportunity to put the mystery to _him_.

While Rikku had a temporary tattoo painted on her wrist with Lulu overseeing, and Wakka appraised a set of spiked Blitzballs in a Lucan stall, Yuna and Tidus sat on the edge of Shiva's fountain watching the world go by.

Tidus bought her a spicy Djose pasty to try, but it set fire to her tongue and he was forced to finish it himself, though only after subjecting her to some merciless ribbing. _Whattya know, Besaidian girls can't handle the heat, _he'd teased, eyes full of laughter, and received a swat to the shoulder for his troubles.

They watched the lights play upon the canvas of Zanarkand; the red neon blur of transport _machina_, the brilliant pulsing amber of streetlamps, and the sweet yellow twinkle of stallside candles.

"I still can't believe how much technology there is here," Yuna admitted.

Beside her, Tidus stretched lazily then dusted his hands, freeing them of clinging pasty crumbs. "Wasn't like this before the Calm. You used to be able to see the sea from East-A. Now the buildings block it out."

"I wonder what it will be like ten years from now," Yuna mused. "Are you worried?"

"Huh?"

"Worried that Zanarkand will change, you know?"

"Nah," Tidus said thoughtfully. "That's just the way Zanarkand is. It's the sleepless city, right? It can't stay the same forever. Why, Yuna? Are you worried that Besaid will change?"

A nostalgic smile touched Yuna's lips at the memory of her home. "I cannot imagine Besaid ever changing," she told him.

Yet even so, she wondered… would dull brick buildings one day replace the beautiful coloured huts of her village? Would they sweep away the crumbling ruins of the Temple and put _machina_ in its place? _Will you still hear the waves of the southern ocean when a dozen ships fill the harbour?_

Tidus must have read her face. "Everything changes, Yuna," he said gently, his hand brushing her shoulder like a fall of warm rain against her skin.

_Everything changes,_ she agreed silently, thinking of the old Hypello and her own clouded future. _But I don't have to want it to._

* * *

--

_**Tidus**_

--

He hadn't meant to stay.

_I meant to walk her home and say goodbye, that's all._ Yet somehow Tidus had found himself stretched out amongst the flowers of Yuna's garden instead, staring up at a night sky soaked with stars.

It wasn't even as though going home was the nightmare it had once been. He and Jecht had even sat in the same room last night, watching an old Lucan Blitz game – _almost_, Tidus reflected, _like a real father and son_. But after the Bells match and the night on the town that followed it, he had been so exhausted that it seemed so _right_ to collapse on Yuna's lawn and just keep talking.

They spoke in fevered bursts, of Blizball and Besaid, of Wakka and Lulu, of Hypello and Al-Bhed, laughing childishly then lapsing into silences which never felt uncomfortable. The air was hot and flowery, clinging comforting to his skin, and Kimahri was curled up at his feet, sleeping on his sneakers.

Yuna, ever-faithful, was not far from his side, lying on her stomach with her legs kicked up behind her like a child. She seemed thoughtful, idly fingering the end of the pretty silver necklace she always wore. She looked vaguely un-Yuna-ish in her Al-Bhed style clothes. Tidus was grateful to Rikku for getting her the outfit, not least because like most guys he appreciated a pair of pretty legs, but mostly because she seemed like less of a foreigner. Just like she had wanted. _Do you think I can? Fit in?_ some girl had asked him once, sad and shy, a thousand years ago.

And now… now she looked like part of them, like she had been a Zanarkander all her life. Everytime he glanced at her, Tidus felt a helpless pride take him.

Pillowing his head on one muscled arm, the Blitzer marvelled at the diamond sharpness of the stars and wondered when he had last known peace like this. _It reminds me of…_

"Yes?" Yuna had turned on her side, and was watching him quizzically. "Tidus?" she prompted.

"Huh? Did I say that out loud?"

She laughed at him. "Yes, you did. What were you thinking about?"

Tidus hesitated, wondering whether to risk the tale. Not that he was afraid of telling _Yuna_, never that, but digging up old memories was dangerous.

"I was just thinking about… back when Mom was still alive. We'd go on walks sometimes, just the three of us. This one time… my old man took us to this Sphere garden."

It had been a glorious night. Jecht has just led the Abes to an unforgettable victory against the Ronso Fangs in the Spiran cup finals. His swagger had been indestructible; boasting, bragging, commentating on his own prowess in the match, and kissing his wife tenderly and often. Once he had even ruffled Tidus' hair, and never known how the simple gesture had made his son's heart swell with joy.

"Go on," Yuna urged. Her voice was a whisper, as though she were afraid that if she spoke a note louder the fragile memory would burst and scatter, lost forever.

"I wanted to show my old man that I could hold my breath for two minutes – that was a long time for me back then - so I went swimming in the Sphere pool. But Sphere water is different… I stayed down for too long, got lost somehow."

It was strange how clearly he remembered the silvered water even now; the shifting shadows, the pull of the deep. The faint lament of pyreflies…

"My Mom said they found me on the bank, stretched out like a star, staring up at the sky. My old man went crazy, shook me like a ragdoll." Tidus smiled then, thinking about Yuna's words to him. _Some people just express their affection in strange ways. _"Now that I look back on it, maybe he was just worried I'd catch a chill."

Yuna was smiling too now, no doubt for his sake. Tidus himself had never been one to ride the tails of other people's happiness… until she came along. Now he found himself vying for those rare smiles of hers, watching for every blush of happiness and every sigh of sadness.

"What was your mother like?" she asked suddenly. When he didn't answer, she seemed all at once to shrink from him, pulling her hands protectively to her chest; a night flower locking its petals away from the sun. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "You don't have to answer."

It _was_ painful to think of his mother, and the way she used to stroke his mop of golden hair, so like her own… painful to think of the times she'd nudge him from her lap the moment his old man came home. And yet… "Pretty," Tidus found himself saying at last. "She liked dancing. And Blitzball. She was a great cook too, made the best _kymadda_ in the whole of Spira." His mother would sometimes feed him the hot flaky morsels while he waited at her heels like a pitiful pup. "She even went to a contest in Luca."

He could feel his heart beginning to falter. But Yuna was watching, all the kindness and innocence in the world waiting in her eyes. Tidus had to look away from them, and steel himself, to somewhere find the strength to say, "That was the day Sin got her."

* * *

--

_**Rin**_

--

Deep, deep down in the Zanarkand south, business was thriving, and Rin was there to reap the benefits. While other merchants set up in the fashionable east end, near the great stadium, or attempted to cheat the northern elite of their wealth, Rin had always known where the real hotspot was.

For weary travellers descending Mount Gagazet, the south was the first sign of a warm meal and a soft bed. For those who were to drawn to drink, the south offered the lowest-priced hangover. For the business-minded, the south was a place of growth and investment, with hundreds of _machina_ workshops sprouting up as well as excavation ships leaving from the port every day to dig in Bikanel and the ruins of Omega.

Rin was a businessman too, of course, and could sniff out a profit like a fiend could hound out fear. He already owned shares in a healthy handful of up-and-coming _machina_ companies, as well as managing Al-Bhed travel agencies all across the country. His Kilikan hostel housed adventureres and sphere-hunters, his lodge in the Calm Lands sheltered floods of tourists seeking the final battleground of Sin and Lord Braska, and his luxury apartments in Bevelle were much sought after by the aristocracy.

His Zanarkand Tavern, by contrast, had seen better days; the lettering on the wooden sign was fading fast, and a splash of new paint was long past due on the inner walls. And yet it was the place closest to Rin's heart. It reminded him of where he had began, and what he had managed to make of himself, back when the south was nothing more than a ghetto for the most despised race in Spira.

At Rin's the wine flowed at all hours and half-a-hundred shady deals were done and bargains made before the day was black. Rumours began there, arguments were settled, and relationships brutally broken. And unlike the stiff upper-class bars of the north, the company always proved to be entertaining.

_Not tonight, though_, Rin thought, somewhat ruefully_._ Blitzball had stolen away most of his regulars, the match between the Abes and the Bells drawing thousands to the stadium.

Tonight an assembly of Al-Bhed businessmen huddled in a corner booth with a pitcher of iced Bikanel shandy, two Machine faction floor workers were playing _chuugan_ and across the counter a fat man in a cowled robe sipped a glass of Bevellian wine. It was one of the few times when Rin could count his customers on both hands.

Jecht had been by earlier, though, looking for answers. The old Blitzer rarely sought Rin out; indeed, he seemed to take great pains to avoid him if he could. _Bad memories, I suppose._ Rin could hardly blame him for some nights ago Jecht's houseboat had been broken into – Al-Bhed spherehunters, by the sounds of things – and incurred Jecht's wrath by whisking away some treasured posession or other. Rin did not want to wonder at what that might be. _Jecht could not have been so foolish as to keep memoirs of his journey,_ he thought suddenly, and felt a dull dread seize him.

At the same moment a draft of hot, balmy air reached and curled into the tavern; the heralding of another customer. Heads always turned when a pretty girl came into the tavern, but Rin knew this one. Her name was Dona. Dark-skinned and slender with a tumble of jet black hair, she was a regular drinker and a regular flirt, thriving on the smiles men gave her.

Yet she ignored them utterly as she sashayed towards the bar counter and, to the surprise of all, perched herself on the tall stool directly next to the fat Bevellian wine-drinker.

She ordered her usual, a cactaur juice and tonic water. By the time Rin brought it to her, she and the fat man had begun to converse, albeit in hushed, careful voices. So careful, infact, that Rin couldn't help but keep an ear pricked their way as he started work on a sink of soiled glasses.

"I must admit, I'm surprised you agreed to a meeting," the wine-drinker was saying, smiling under the cowl of his cloak, "I understood you were a member of the Youth League. I thought your group did not condone bribery and secrecy."

Dona sniffed. "I work only for myself. I admit, sometimes I wear the Youth League badge. It can provide… opportunities."

"I see." He swirled the wine in its glass, considered it, then took a sip. "One can envision the advantages of freelance sphere-hunting. Gil is more nourishing than pride, one would imagine."

As he talked, Rin tried to place the fat man's accent – a skill the old Al-Bhed excelled at; a gift of his travels. _It has a hint of Guadosalem, _he decided, intrigued, _but no one truly lives there anymore._ That race had fallen hard after the death of Jyscal.

Dona, meanwhile, had not missed the insult in her companion's words, a sudden scowl marring her pretty features. "Just talk, little man," she snapped at him, visibly out of patience.

"Very well," her companion replied midly, seemingly unfazed by the address. "To whom else did you advertise your… wares?"

"Oh, some contacts in the Youth League."

"They were not interested?"

"Oh, they were _very_ interested. 'For Spira's greater good.' I confess I was looking for a more appealing price."

"Then, you are the only one who has seen these recordings?"

"Yes."

The fat man seemed pleased by the revelation, nodding to himself just slightly under his cloak. "You retrieved the Spheres yourself?"

She laughed throatily, clearly amused by the notion. "Of course not. I had some men do it for me."

"I assume they covered their tracks?"

Again the disdainful snort. "Men are fools, but they are not quite so foolish as that."

"And their contents?"

"From the ones I've seen… all the secrets of the High Summoner's lost Pilgrimage," she taunted. "That's what you wanted, isn't it? I'm sure it's pretty eye-opening stuff if you care about that sort of thing."

"And you do not?"

Dona shrugged, reaching again for the cactaur juice bottle to refill her glass. "I care about a new homestead in the Golden Tower that's just gone up in C-East. Fully furnished. Nice area... Great view of the sea."

"I'm sure we can come to some arrangement. Indeed, the price means little to me."

Rin did not know whether it was the look in the man's eyes or something in his voice that suddenly made Dona's tenacity falter. The spherehunter rolled one shoulder, almost nervously, opening her mouth then closed it again. The gesture did not suit her. "What… what do you want them for, anyway?" she said finally. "Not that I care."

"As it happens, I have a dear friend who is not as enamoured with Braska as the rest of Spira." The fat man had finished his glass, and licked the last drops of red from his lips. "He may have been the downfall of a very great man. Indeed, a man far greater than himself."

"Fine," said Dona, visibly uncomfortable now. "Whatever you want." Rin suspected she was eager to have her reward, and dust her hands of the situation. "You said you'd give me what I asked for on the day, so wh-"

"And so I will, my friend. And so I will. But not here. I will take you."

The sphere hunter hesitated then, which seemed to amuse her companion. "Please, are you afraid of an old fat man?" he said, and then more gently, "Come, come, we shall not go far."

Rin's scattered customers sniggered when they saw Dona leave with the fat man, but Rin only felt that all too familiar dread return to sicken his stomach. He had understood every word they said.

Wheels were turning, that much were certain, and he could not see to what end. But it had begun with that girl coming to the bar, he knew. _The girl with Amanecera's face._ How many times had he stayed at that old Inn, how many times had he sat by Cid's sister's sickbed, urging her to return to her brother at last? How many times had he passed that little girl sitting outside the room, barefoot and solemn? Bevellian by birth, bi-coloured eyes, plucked from the haven of Besaid, and with a warrior monk for a guardian… _she could not possibly be anybody else. Yuna, named for the first High Summoner, by the last._

When the door swung open once more, Rin looked up expecting to see the spherehunter girl, but it was Cid's kid instead. _Brother_. The boy with so many tattoos that it was hard to know where they ended and he began. They were a stark contrast to his big bottle-green eyes, wide and watery. All in all, his expression was so pathetic that Rin had to take pity on him.

"What's your trouble, Brother?" he asked the boy in rasping Al-Bhed as he pushed a fresh pint glass under the taps.

"I have met," Brother began in a dramatic voice, "the woman of my dreams."

Rin tipped the glass to shave off the foam and slid it across the counter. "That so?" he said distractedly, his mind still reeling from Dona and the fat man and the Spheres, and a Bevellian girl with blue and green eyes.

The boy stared deeply into the swirling brown liquid but made no attempt to drink it. The Kilikan beer had been watered down, but someone like Brother was hardly like to notice. "She has eyes like the two sides of the moon," he told his glass in lovelorn tones, "and her hair… it is like spilled autumn honey."

Rin rolled his eyes. _It must be a woman, right enough. Cid would give him a hiding if he heard such sissy bhyco talk. _"You got it bad, kid. What's her name?"

"_Yuna_. The most beautiful name in all of Spira."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**Would you believe that was probably my quickest update ever? Don't kill me.**

**This chapter read like filler, I think. To tell you the truth, I felt as though it was just me stretching my wings a bit, trying some different moods, like Yuna and the Hypello, or her folk tale, or the shadowy corner that is Rin's Tavern. The fortune stuff was so much fun. I can't believe I wrote six pages of Yuna-ramblings, but only had it in me to write two of Tidus-ramblings. Guys are so difficult to write!**

**Next chapter: I hope you've all had your fill of fluff. Because that's the last you're going to get for a while. This chapter's quote is not just for show, you know!**

* * *

**REVIEW REPLIES**

CrimsonOkami – THANKYOU! Whenever I get a new reviewer it gives me so much more enthusiasm to continue, you can't even begin to know! And I actually go back and perfect little details and re-write little passages that I wouldn't usually rewrite and just. Yes. Thankyou!

MinnieMouse8990 – I'm glad you liked Yuna's story, it encouraged me to keep the one she tells in this chapter. Auron's secrets are out in the open in a sense… just not to Yuna! Thankyou for reviewing!

Kahoko – Thankyou, I'm glad my Yuna is coming across that way to you, that's how I hoped to portray her. Your sentiment about Auron is lovely, I just hope Yuna feels the same way…

Hotfudgesundae – One of your predictions is spot on. But probably not in the way you think. Mwahaha. Thanks for giving me your thoughts!

Thepenandthesword – I'm glad I've made someone sympathetic to Auron! Yuna has a young heart and needs lots of people to fill it, but for Auron, she is his whole world. But yes, badness is definitely in his future.

Hurricane-5 – Haha, Kimahri has lots of little things to do in this story. He's handy to have around! Thanks for the review, have some more chapter!

Sam – Please, don't erupt into happy bubbly fuzzies, I need you in solid form so I can continue reading your wonderful reviews! YES, "finding their way to one another" is EXACTLY how I wanted it, so well put! I'm glad developing the others is helping the story rather than hurting it, Rikku will be the next persona to have a fleshing out perspective. Thankyou so much for reviewing every single time, it makes me want to hug you. Seriously, go back to being solid.

H-bomber – Thankyou, please keep reading!

Aimedmischief – Glad to hear it – have some more!

ShinigamiLenne – Yes, I liked Jecht playing 'good dad' too, I wanted to give him some growth in this universe. Hope you enjoy the T/Y fluffiness in this chapter because soon… well… *runs away*

Anonymous – Ooh, there's definite Rippal hintage throughout this fic. Though she is fifteen here so it will only be developed to a point… Sometimes I wish I'd made her older because now I really enjoy writing the hintage. THANKYOU for the way you write about the characters, you 'get' them on just the level I wanted them to come across, Tidus' cockiness and Yuna's shy and kinda wild side. I hope you give me more of your thoughts!

androk1 – Yes! Tidus definitely feels more comfortable around Yuna than any of his other friends, he just hasn't realised it yet. Because's he's male. I'm so happy that you like and follow the fluff and conflict, because there's a whole lot of it to come! Thankyou!

.thepiratejilt. – Thanks again for the push. Honestly, they really motivate me! Sorry about the wait and thankyou for sticking with me. I'm so glad you like my Zanarkand – I try hard to keep it going, I have a little reference file for all the a-easts and c-souths and b-norths and whats in them!

whitephoenix33 – Ha ha, I'm sorry that my updates cause such agony! To answer your question; save the Sending, Yuna doesn't know any magic at this point. Not many people do in this alternate Spira. Infact, my Auron muses in chapter two or three that swordsmanship and magic are dying out because of the Eternal Calm. Plus I can't give her too many excuses to get her hands on Tidus, that would just make it too easy!

Midnight Phase – Thankyou, I'm always grateful to have new readers who review! So I'm very glad you picked my story too.

chipmouskin – When will Yuna discover that Auron isn't her father? Why, that happens in chapter--oh look at the time, must go. Mwahahahaha.


	11. Chapter 10: A Little Fall of Rain

**CHAPTER TEN: A Little Fall of Rain**

**_--_**

**_Yuna_**

**_--_**

* * *

The Zanarkand sky had never looked so unfriendly to Yuna's eyes. Scowling thunder tore from the clouds and rolled through the stadium, bestowing the night's Blitzball with a brutal electricity.

The roar of the crowds was something savage in a game this far into the tournament. Yuna felt the effect; her fists made white knuckles whenever Tidus championed the ball, her breath shuddering ivory mist whenever she lost sight of him.

Despite herself, she could not help but continue to admire the certain artistry involved in the young athlete's movements; the deft turns, the quick catches; a perfectly executed somersault. _After all, what is Blitzball if not a kind of water dance? And one no less skilled than the Sending, in its own way,_ she mused. It always warmed Yuna to think on their likenesses.

Afterwards she found herself in high spirits, sharing in the soaring exultation of the Abes' victory as though some part of it were her own. Waiting underneath the statue of Lord Ohalland, she and Rikku made their own game, tossing a blitzball back and forth, teasing and laughing at each other as it sang through the air. Once Yuna even managed to twirl the ball on her finger for a lingering moment, a trick Tidus had been taking pains to teach her.

Unfortunately, by the time Wakka arrived, she and Rikku had been cornered by a Youth League recruiter pushing Spheres in their faces. The Abes captain soon sent him off with a cold look that might have stilled even Lulu's step. Until then Yuna had not thought the gentle giant of a man capable of such threat. Yet Wakka's face was all smiles as he returned his attention to them. Her new friends were always surprising her!

Rikku bounced a semi-circle around the captain, hugging his arm with that easy affection Yuna often envied. "Great game, big guy!" the little Al-Bhed chirped at him.

Wakka handed them each a foam cup of regen juice which they accepted eagerly, then stretched down his large hand to muss Rikku's golden hair. "Glad to hear it! You enjoy yourself, Yuna?"

"Oh, yes!" she said feelingly, "it was excellent!" She drank eagerly from the cup. The juice was tart and pleasantly refreshing in the sticky heat. With effort Yuna managed to brush away any runaway thoughts of the absent member of the party and throw herself into a lively discussion about the match.

Through her self-teaching Yuna found herself able to talk to some extent about the subtleties of the game; she could tell a decent nap shot from a bad one atleast, recognised the names of some of Wakka's strategies, knew how many points the team was set back each time one of the players pushed the violence a little too far. It was pleasant to know something other than lore and Sending, something as ordinary and weightless as Blitzball tactics.

The welcome distraction lasted only until it became clear why Tidus had lingered. His emergence at last from the stadium gates was heralded by a deluge of Blitzer girls, hovering about him with tangible enthusiasm.

Yuna only realised she was staring when she was startled by Wakka's bark of laughter. "I wondered where that boy had got to, ya? A pretty girl and he's off like a volley shot."

_Which girl?_ Yuna counted seven. They were uniformed in identical skin-tight waterproofs, hair slicked wetly down their necks. Yet they were clearly discussing business rather than pleasure; intent, focused looks on their pretty faces. Yuna thought about the Blitzball instruction book under her mattress and felt suddenly foolish.

_I'm not like them,_ she thought defiantly. _I know his secrets, I've seen his tears. He let me hold him. _Yet those old doubts were setting creepers in her heart again. "Which team are they from?" she asked, in what she hoped was an unaffected tone. Her nails made ribbons in the foam cup.

"Some new all-girl team from Luca." Wakka explained. "S'posed to be pretty good."

"Yeah right," Rikku added scathingly, arms akimbo. Yuna realised vaguely that the little Al-Bhed was trying to take the empty foam cup from her hand to prevent her from scratching it to pieces. "Ugh, look at them. They are so all over him."

Yuna wanted to hug her, but Wakka only chuckled and mussed Rikku's hair again. "Ti's always having his heads turned by girls. Boy needs his friends, not a girlfriend. That's why he's got Yuna, ya?"

_Gods_. The gravity of those words washed over Wakka, but Yuna heard them like the roar of a tidal wave. She felt herself shrink in humiliation before he and Rikku at this new proposed avatar of herself; Tidus' keeper, matron, safeguard.

Rikku's expression had changed too; she glanced between Yuna and Wakka with visible discomfort. "_Wakka_," she whined, "I don't think-"

"I am honoured to be his friend," Yuna answered with empty solemnity. _That was always enough for me before._ Yet her heart pulsed painfully in her chest; she felt suddenly confused and hateful and ashamed. Wakka's innocent speech seemed to make pathetic the notion that she would even be considered a rival to the Blitzer girls and their ilk.

She was so consumed with the notion that when Tidus finally strode towards their party with a Blitzball captured confidently under one arm, Yuna barely noticed.

"Hey Yuna, think fast!"

Still trying to sort through the static buzz filling her mind, Yuna only briefly recognised the whistle of the Tidus' Blitzball when it smacked into her midsection with a hollow _thud_.

"Gods, Yuna, are you okay?!" Alarm laced Tidus' tone. "Did I hurt you?"

Yuna sought to hide her face by bending to retrieve the Blitzball at her feet, not trusting its expression. But Tidus, always intent on being the thief of her troubles, came towards her unafraid, catching her forearm and raising her gently from the ground.

"Hey, what happened, we were doing just fine yesterday… You were my star Blitzer." He was smiling at her, but his sunkissed features shifted as she came unsteadily to her feet. "Hey, hey, Yuna..."

"There you are." Lulu's deep voice penetrated their party, gliding towards them with her usual powerful grace. "We've been looking for you for some time."

At the mage's tail came Gippal, Baralai and Isaaru, the latter offering Yuna a nervous half smile which didn't fit with the grim, stoic looks worn by his companions.

Tidus took the Blitzball gently from Yuna and tucked it casually under one arm. He took his Bltizball stance, expecting confrontation.

"We have a request to ask of you," said Baralai eventually. He seemed hesitant in asking, still lingering in Lulu's shadow. Yuna was curious despite herself; which intrigued Yuna; the Praetor seemed a man who was rarely fazed.

"What do you want?" Tidus asked with suspicion, directing his question at Gippal rather than the speaker.

The two boys stared each other down for some moments, so it fell to Lulu to answer the question.

"They want Yuna."

* * *

**_--_**

**_Tidus_**

**_--_**

* * *

When he saw the dead woman, Tidus knew this was no longer his game.

Dona's body lay not far from the slums of C-South, half-concealed in an alleyway. A black stain like a violent star had spread beneath her and it took Tidus one long deafening moment to realise it was blood.

He took in the harrowing scene with astonishment; there was Barthello kneeling at the dead woman's side, Lulu's friend Paine with a hand clapped on his shoulder and what looked like a senior member of the Crimson Squad to investigate the death.

He hadn't known the girl himself, only glimpsed her once or twice sashaying through the bars of Zanarkand south. Gippal knew her well, he remembered, from his brief Sphere hunter days, had probably made a few moves on her too. It was terrifying how easily Dona had been stripped of her former glamour; she looked utterly fragile, her body curled into itself like a child in pain.

"What happened here?" said Lulu sternly, taking charge with little effort. "Does anyone know?"

The Crimson man assessed her for a moment with dark, calculating eyes. "No witnesses have come forward."

"Why ain't she been moved?" Wakka asked, features twisted in distaste. He was not alone in that; Rikku had turned her face into Gippal's shoulder. "You could atleast have the decency to put her in a casket, ya?"

Paine's eyes flickered towards him impatiently. "The death was unclean. She needs to be Sent quickly, before she becomes a Fiend," she said bluntly. Underneath her hand, Barthello gave a choking sob that brought no tears, but seemed to wrack his huge body to its very core.

All of Tidus' nerves were ablaze with a feeling akin to disbelief. Like Rikku he had the native urge to turn his face from the corpse. He felt sick. A death like this was something far too ugly for the City of Lights, _his_ city. Maybe for the former generation, this sort of senseless waste had been commonplace, but not now… not for the children of the Eternal Calm.

"Miss, are you willing to perform the ceremony?"

It took Tidus some moments to realise that the Crimson Squad official was addressing Yuna.

"Hey, hold on a second," he said with alarm, striding towards them with the intention of dispelling the proposal. He knew Yuna performed Sendings, but they had to be quiet, family affairs, surely – the sort with flowers and devotions; timely deaths of the elderly or else unfortunate children who had succumbed to sickness. This death was, as Paine had put it, "unclean" in the most extreme sense, hardly a task that should fall to someone like Yuna. "Back off, that's not her-"

"No, I will answer. I can Send her."

Her words, though not without gentleness, were clipped, and Tidus felt the rebuke deep in his bones. He might have felt the sting less if the disguised scolding had come from Lulu, but to hear it from Yuna…

"Don't you require a summoning staff for that?" Baralai was asking.

Yuna's coloured beads rattled softly as she shook her head. "The staff is only for ceremony, or to give balance in training. I can do without."

Her cool exterior was somehow infuriating to Tidus. He felt bizarrely as though she were closing those black iron gates on him, as though this time they were too high for him to scale. Nowhere in her face did he see a sign that his intervention would be welcomed.

"Are you sanctioned, young lady?" The Crimson man asked.

"Yes, almost two years ago. My teacher was Belgemine, once of Bevelle."

"Just do it. Please," Barthello pleaded, his voice so rough that it was hard not to hear the unshed tears in it.

Baralai had brought candles to lend the setting more light. Yuna seemed to approve; she exchanged quiet words with the young Praetor and his charge Isaaru, giving directions on where to place them.

Tidus, feeling that events were moving too fast for him to follow, took another step towards the party, though what he intended to do he could not have said. Before he could take a second step, Lulu's long fingers had curled around his forearm, her face a dark mask. "No," she said sharply. "You cannot protect her from this." Her once-Guardian eyes were full of fire.

As easily as that, Tidus felt himself fade into the background. All he could do was watch grimly from the sidelines with the others as the setting crept to life with candlelight. Flame-cast shadows played on Yuna's pale, solemn face as she took her stance.

He had seen the Sending performed before, but never so flawlessly as this. Yuna was visibly in her element; her slender arms stretching out like a crane, long sleeves sweeping behind her like wings, so that all eyes were drawn helplessly to her.

_It will never be beautiful to me,_ she had told him once, but he had never truly understood. Not until now. It was not like the free-spirited dances of the Kilikans in Shiva's Plaza, or the ballets of the Zanarkand Opera House once so beloved by his mother. Yuna danced with mortality itself, an act that drunk colour even from the proud flames, which now flickered pale blue, weak and withering.

It was the unearthly injustice of it all that angered him the most; knowing that here was a girl who should be admired for her kindness and cherished for her innocence. A girl who under any other sun owned a grace that softened the most bitter of hearts. She made Rikku braver, Gippal kinder and Lulu more gentle. Yet before him danced a girl he hardly knew; a sad-hearted creature suddenly as unreachable as his father once was.

He felt desperately he would rather be anywhere but here. He found himself thirsting for water; water to take the taste of death from his mouth, water to wash away the ashes. In a Blitzball game with the spray hitting his face glorious and violent, on the edge of the houseboat looking out onto the gently pulsating waves of the harbour, or dipping a hand into the fountain of Aeons in the East-A Plaza. His whole being wanted to thrash against the cage of this macabre ritual, to break free from it utterly.

Instead he made himself watch her until she lowered her outstretched hands, gracefully, as though tempering an ocean wave. When she lifted her face, Tidus could see the same control that he saw on the playing field, effortlessly maintained. "She has reached the Farplane," Yuna told them solemnly.

In an instant the others were at her side; Lulu and Baralai offering quiet praise, Barthello tearful gratitude. Yet try as he might, Tidus could not make himself go to her.

He was not alone; Rikku was sickly pale, green eyes round and pained in her young face. "Come on, Cid's girl," said Gippal in a voice strangely gentle. His arm was still iron around her shoulder. "I'll take you home."

**--**

* * *

**_--_**

When all but a few of the candles had burnt out, Yuna came to him at last.

"His friends will take care of him now," she told Tidus. "I need to go before father gets home. Will you walk with me?" She looked slightly unsure, as though he might refuse.

Tidus couldn't trust himself to speak at that moment, too consumed with frustration and confusion and inexplicably, hurt. He nudged his chin towards the path to B-North. She seemed to understand, and when they set off together, their first steps were in tune.

"I think I understand now," he said eventually. They were far enough on the B-North route that faint Kilikan folk music could be heard from the musician's quarter. He chose to ignore it. "About the Sending, I mean."

The way she looked at him then – like someone who had known pain might look with pity and envy at a wide-eyed innocent – made him wish he could take the words back.

"They told me before," she said, with distant resignation. "My father told me. My teacher warned me. The Sending is not just a dance. It is a sacrifice, she said. With some, you can show them the path and they follow. But others… you have to walk with them a little way. Sometimes, it is hard to let go. For us both."

A raw and unrelenting anger was pooling in Tidus' gut. That measure of sadness in her smile that he had seen from the first... that guarded sorrow that had always given her some of Lulu's quality; all had its roots in this age-old calling, this gruesome ceremony of the dead. _I'm a first class idiot. It wasn't anything to do with her old man. _

He wanted to curse the day he ever got her involved with New Yevon. His fresh anger at Gippal was like ripping a scab from an old wound. He wanted to curse Barthello, and Isaaru, and especially Baralai who had hovered around Yuna during the ceremony with some sort of mysterious kinship, seeming to give her some comfort where he could not.

"Why?" he said finally, misleadingly quiet. "Why don't you just stop?"

A bruised smile came fleeting to her face. "And what would I do then?"

"What? Lots of stuff, Yuna. Anything you want."

She cocked her head to the side, as though listening to a sound in the distance.

Tidus threw his hands out, exasperated. "Well, I dunno! Maybe I could teach you to play Blitzball. Real Blitzball."

A strained little laugh bubbled from her lips; she seemed amused at the notion. "You told me that would take a long time, remember?"

He made a frustrated sound. The Kilikan music was growing softer, each step carrying them further away from the Sending, yet somehow closer to the heart of it.

"My father wouldn't approve. Neither would Lulu, I think."

"What have they got to do with it? You don't have to answer to anyone, Yuna."

"Yes, I do." Her voice was so soft Tidus had to strain to hear it. But it had a hard edge, making her words unmistakable. "I must answer to myself."

With a sinking heart, he knew that she meant it with every fibre of her being.

* * *

**_--_**

**_Yuna_**

**_--_**

* * *

On their way home from the Sending, the heavens opened. Needles of white rain plummeted from the sky while Tidus ran and Yuna tore blindly after him; his sneakers and her boots crashing through the streets of C-East.

They staggered under the canvas of an Al-Bhed stall, clothes clinging wetly, faces dripping. Other shelter-seeking Zanarkanders soon joined them, appearing like ghosts in the mist; some laughing, others cursing and wringing their hair.

Yuna stared out amongst a sea of staring faces and thought that the storm did not become the great metropolis, which had always seemed to her to be bathed in an eternal summer. The amber lights dimmed beneath the power of the elements, the rain's music drowning the merrymaking of Zanarkanders.

As new life poured into the stall and Yuna was pushed further back, Tidus' fingers pressed against the small of her back in a protective gesture, but when she glanced at him she found his eyes far away, as though he couldn't even see her.

"Are you alright?" she asked searchingly, lifting her voice to break through the rainwater thrumming noisily from the canvas.

It seemed a lifetime before his eyes met hers. He affected a smile, but it was one that Yuna had seen before_. It is the smile he used to wear before he made amends with his father. _She had judged him a poor liar back then. It saddened her to think that even now, he would not release that private grief to her.

_Hardly a word has fallen between us since the Sending. _He had not liked it, she knew. _No more than the others and yet… it troubles him the most._ Was the Sending truly so unsightly to him?

Yuna had seen death half-a-hundred times. She had been Sending souls to the Farplane for as long as Tidus had been signing Blitzballs. Death was the one thing her father had never shielded her from. She had watched the Dance at his side as a child, followed Belgemine's steps in her girlhood, before finally taking up the staff at tender sixteen. She had borne it all with quiet dutifulness, never caring that taking the role so young might set her in obscurity.

Yet she thought a pair of blue eyes might yet change all that. _I wonder..._ Back on Besaid, Belgemine had told her that the liveliest children were the ones most sensitive to pyreflies. The sweep of a Summoner's staff could shred even the most indestructible of smiles. And Tidus… well, he was like a burst of laughter in cold silence, like a blast of summer sunshine among sullen skies. Standing him next to a dead girl was like driving home some dramatic symbolism from an old Yevonite morality play._ It is no wonder that he recoiled from it._

She replayed the ritual in her mind from beginning to end, from the first fevered step of the dance to her last backwards glance at the grieving Barthello.

"You have a choice to make," she had told Dona's bereaved. "Die, and be free of pain or live and fight your sorrow." Her father's words. _Such harsh words. _She looked into Tidus' handsome face, fresh with grief, and suddenly felt as old as the first Lady Yunalesca.

They were halfway home when it occurred to Yuna that he may want nothing more to do with a girl who danced with death. It was only half of a trembling thought, before she convinced herself that he could never be so cruel, to cut her from his life like a thread. Yet in her mind's eye she could see him turning away from her, as he had that night in the garden.

_When he turned his back to me, I reached out to him._ She could do so again. How easy it would be! To offer him comfort, to fold her arms around him. To tell him that she had been scared, that the sight of the dead girl had shocked her, that her heart had rejected it like his. But the falsehood would be an injury to her Sender's pride, and somehow betraying Dona and Belgemine both. _Yes, and all the Senders that came before us, too._ No - she atleast would not be a liar. Not in this. Not even for him.

That night the iron gates had never looked so impenetrable, nor Tidus so out of reach. He did not follow her into the garden, but stood apart while she descended. Standing there so still, he looked to Yuna like some unearthly thing, his hair silvered by the long fingers of the moon. He was so achingly beautiful that she could barely stand to look at him.

_It's too late for me,_ she realised sadly, a strange and terrible stillness taking hold of her heart. Somewhere her admiration and shy, cautious comaraderie with Tidus had fled, only to be replaced with a raw and dangerous yearning. After all the guards she had put in place, all the warnings she had etched in her heart, she had still been defeated by that rainbeaten hope that she was somehow precious to him.

When he had gone, Yuna sank miserably onto the wet grass. She watched as water pooled pitifully into the spot where his sneakers had imprinted in the rubble, washing away his presence like some kind of twisted omen.

She thought about the story she had told Rikku, of the Hypello who had fallen in love with a Spiran. It was too tempting, too easy to trace the romantic parallel with herself. _The human girl was kind to the creature, _Yuna remembered from her father's books, _but in the end she only pitied it. _According to legend, the maiden had married another; in some tales an admired Macalanian warrior, in others a wise leader of her tribe, but always someone from the same world.

She couldn't bear to think of herself becoming that; a little grasping creature, reaching for a lamp that swung before her without ever touching its light. _Will he want me by his side when he marries one of those Blitzer girls?_ she thought bitterly, _will I smile for him then?_ Could she smile while another girl in another garden nursed his hurts? _You said that you were different from those girls, and you are. But not in the way you wanted. _

Yuna laid her palms open in her lap and gazed into them like a mirror. She wished she could see her old self in them; that Besaidian girl and her quietly happy universe. A girl who never envied or hated. A girl proud of her calling. _A girl who never lied to her father. _

More brutal was the knowledge that she had brought it upon herself, collecting dreams as haphazardly as a hungry child. Small wonder they should go unfulfilled. Somehow she had fallen under Zanarkand's spell, blinded so quickly, so effortlessly by its lights and promises. Far from the pious simplicity of those island shores, she felt herself desperate and envious, no longer satisfied by her lot in life. _This isn't who I wanted to be,_ she thought sadly. _This isn't the Zanarkand I wished for._

Alone in the night air, Yuna closed her eyes and dreamed of Besaid.

* * *

**_--_**

**_Auron_**

**_--_**

* * *

Auron had avoided the downpour. As he walked the abandoned streets in the rising dawn, water gushed blue into the Zanarkand gutters, sending rivers sweeping past his boots. The air felt cold and electric, the thunder-spent clouds now a sullen grey.

The taste of static put him in mind of the Thunderplains, and the time he had spent there with Braska and his Guard. He had tailed his Summoner like a shadow in those early days, finding threat behind every foreign door, under every unfamiliar stone.

So his unease had only strengthened when Braska insisted on resting at an Al Bhed travel agency; a lonely, derelict building in the savage emptiness of the Plains. It was some tenuous connection with that despised race that had caused Braska to fall out of favour with Yevon for a time, though Auron knew none of the particulars. Since then the Summoner had publicly renounced the Al Bhed and their ways in order to have his Pilgrimage sanctioned, but Auron suspected his Lord still nursed a queer fondness for a pair of green eyes. Of course, it did not follow that Auron himself had to harbour any trust for that heathen race.

"My Lord, you should not linger out of doors alone here," he had admonished Braska, finding him missing from his quarters one evening. It had taken him ten beats of a troubled heart to locate his Summoner's pale silhouette under the building's small canvas, staring out into the night.

"Do not be concerned, Auron," Braska said. His voice was as ever-steady as rainfall, a cool comfort in this land of chaos. The Summoner allowed a pause for the lightening to strike before continuing his speech, seeming to sense when it would come. "Jecht is not far. He is tracking a fiend."

Auron grunted his displeasure. _That man... he is no fit Guardian for you. We should have left him drunk on his grief back in Luca._

Braska gave a low chuckle, reading his friend's thoughts quite clearly. "You do not like him, do you, Auron?"

"It is not for me to question your choices," the Guardian said reluctantly, leaving the rest unspoken.

"And yet?"

The invitation to speak was too tempting for Auron. "My Lord, you must see why I cannot approve. This Zanarkander tarnishes us all. I will not deny he can handle a sword, but there are others who are better." _Myself, for one._ "My Lord, you already have two Guardians skilled in katana and the black arts. Jyscal and I would suffice for your protection. Why allow this man to continue to risk your pilgrimage?"

"You think I chose him on some whim of emotion." Braska's tone held no accusation, no anger. His composure never wavered, his voice never shook; the silhouette was as still as it had ever been. "I would not fault you for thinking so, Auron. My emotions have oft led me to grief before." Secrets glittered behind the Summoner's eyes, but they were not for a lowly warrior monk to know.

_Yes, _said Auron's heart, _that is the way of it, _yet he let his silence speak for him.

Braska sighed then, making a weary sweeping motion with his hand as though to dust away unwanted memories. Finally facing his young Guardian, he said with rare decision, "We are already an unpopular party, Auron. Jecht's conduct – however... unconventional - can cause us no further harm. Indeed you are my sword, and Jyscal my shield." His eyes returned to the night, and he smiled at the sight of Jecht in the distance, ambling towards them with a fist in the air. "Yet there must also be a spirit."

Auron had felt the words with a dull resentment back then, and not even the memory of Braska's smile could make him recall the scene with any rebirth of affection. He could never seem to think of the past without the bitterness creeping upon him like a stain.

A shock of pain, uncoiling through the length of his arm, ripped Auron from his memories. _The wound has reopened, _he noted with irritation. He had not returned from his latest Crusade without injury. Two claw marks from an adult Coeurl, deep enough to scar, ran ragged along his forearm. When he returned to the house, he would have Yuna make a poultice for him from honey and Kilikan sourleaf. A potion would work as well, but he liked home comforts. And it would give him a chance to sit and talk with his daughter. She would scold him for being careless, of course. He smiled at the thought.

So moved by this mental image as he came at last to the house in B-North, Auron in his isolation almost overlooked his housekeeper waiting for him by the door.

Shelinda struck a defiant pose, her hands clawed around the handles of two small iguion-skin suitcases. They looked full to bursting.

"Sir," she said, before he even had the chance to express his bewilderment, "I regret to inform you of my resignation. I believe this establishment is no longer suitable for my person." She did not seem to notice the trickle of blood running down his forearm, or otherwise chose not to. Auron quickly concealed the offending hand beneath his sleeve.

"Have you and Yuna quarrelled?" he asked in a sharp voice, skipping the particulars as was his way. Suspicion clawed at him, and it was all directed towards the Acolyte.

Shelinda drew a breath, preparing for a long answer. "Your daughter is a gentle girl, Sir. But she is grown very eccentric. Do you know she walks the house like a ghost at night? It is not dreamwalking for I am sure she is quite lucid. Why, I am sure I once saw her wandering the little garden in the dark! What am I to think of a young girl behaving in such a way? Her mealtimes are quite bizarre; I am not used to preparing food at such ungodly hours. And that Fiend of a cat seems to enjoy making my life a misery! I would advise you to be rid of the animal before it turns savage." The maid's chest rose and fell with a desperate gulp of air. "To be frank, Sir, respect is what is missing."

"I see," said Auron coldly, deceptively calm as the insult to his daughter struck home. "If that is the way you feel, of course you may leave whenever you like. I will arrange the rest of your pay to be delivered."

"No need, Sir," she said proudly, thin-lipped. It was evident to him that she had not expected such a curt response, but he was in no temper to encourage her. When she paused in the doorway he felt an angry flicker of impatience. "A gentleman called at the house. He did not give a name but left a Sphere in your care. You will find it in the resting room."

The door clicked noisily shut as she left. The sound seemed to drain the tension from Auron all at once. Wearily he relinquished his travel bags and katana, the weight off his shoulders blissful, and poured over Shelinda's words in his mind, trying to make sense of them.

He had little doubt that Yuna's sleeplessness was a symptom of his absence. Indeed she never took to "walking the house like a ghost at night" when he was installed there; he would sense her movements in a heartbeat. But Yuna herself had admitted no serious anxiety when he asked. For the rest she could not be at fault. There was nothing lacking in her manner; she was gentle, respectful, polite to a fault and from what he had witnessed of Zanarkand, ages more mature than her peers. _I will go upstairs, break the news to Yuna, and set about finding a more suitable companion for the two of us. _

In the resting room, Auron removed his overcoat, wincing as he peeled the material from his injured hand. He shook the garment out and set it carefully on the back of a chair.

The Sphere was sitting on the dining table, humming softly. Auron activated it absentmindedly, imagining a message on his property in Besaid, or else a Crusader communication come too soon.

Instead, the face that flickered into being struck him like lightening on the dry earth.

"Sir Auron," came the Sphere's voice. "I believe you will know my face. I have kept my silence, as you bid me all those years ago. Now my conscience compels me to act, for your sake and your daughter's."

Immediately Auron found himself gripping the edge of the table at the reference to Yuna, knuckles white. He sat down hard, real raw fear gripping his stomach for the first time in years.

"Many secrets pass through the walls of my establishment," the voice continued, direct and unrelenting, each falling word a new blow to Auron. "I fear that the truth about Braska's Guardian may soon fall into the wrong hands. Listen well."

* * *

**_--_**

**_Yuna_**

**_--_**

* * *

Yuna turned the Summoner's staff over and over in her hands. She smoothed the fudge-like polish down the length of it and back again to the centerpiece, massaging the twin red-on-gold wings until they shone. _It is such a beautiful ornament. How many times has it alienated me? _Yetshe remembered when her father had it made for her, how _right_ it had felt in her hands from the first.

As though summoned by her thoughts, Yuna's bedroom door swung open with a soft _click_.

Her smile fled when she caught sight of Auron's hand glistening redly. She dropped the staff and polish both, forgotten in an instant, to guide her father into the woven Besadian chair by the window.

"Oh Father," she said sadly, "I wish you would take more care."

She left him there and swiftly sought out the wooden box in her chest of drawers which held a mixture of Al Bhed potions and ether, troubled by her father's uncharacteristic silence. But when she moved to dab the wound, Auron clamped his good hand over her wrist, meeting her eyes with seriousness. "Listen to me. We cannot stay here any longer."

She jerked back, ether sloshing from the bottle in her hand. "Father, calm down. What are you saying?"

"We will leave B-North tonight and take up residence elsewhere."

She regarded him carefully; he seemed to be speaking more to himself than to her. "Father, I think you have a fever. I can't understand what you're saying. You're not making sense."

"I am in earnest, Yuna. I need you to gather your things."

Yuna gripped his hand. "_Tonight_?"

The resounding silence met by her question sent a stab of hot fear through Yuna. _Oh no. Oh no no no no. This can't be happening._ "Father," she implored, "This is our _home_ now."

As quickly as she had forsaken her dream of Zanarkand, Yuna felt herself clawing desperately for reasons to keep it alive. "We're going to abandon the house?" she continued, "just like that? Our breakfast table by the window? Kimahri's crawlspaces… the Besaidian star you carved on my headboard? All the new memories we made?" And the heart of it, always. "My garden…"

And she thought about the purple robed Hibiscus glowing at dusk; the blades of wild deep-green grass; the reaching ivy and the wrought-iron gates she had conquered. She thought of Tidus' lonely silhouette in the night air, waiting.

"I'll carve you a new star." Her father's weak smile was not without tenderness. "And now we must find a house with a better garden. I'm sorry, Yuna."

She didn't smile back. Part of her wanted to run, run from all of it, her father's past and her Summoner's staff, from the stinging sadness that surrounded their life. Yet even as her heart thundered profoundly in her chest, even as she felt control slipping desperately through her fingers, something in her father's voice gave Yuna pause.

"Father," she said tentatively, "are you in trouble?"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

* * *

**I could tell you what the next chapter is called, but it would be too obvious. So I won't. However, know only that there will be much facing up to things coming up... almost every character will get a slap in the face, except Lulu of course because she's too sensible.**

**I think anyone who is still reading this is probably past the point of commenting on the ridiculously long update waits. But to anyone who still needs explanation, I'm truly sorry it always takes so long, I just don't let this story take over my life, it's a little hobby of mine and nothing more. But know that I don't plan to give up on it.**

**I can't believe I didn't update in 2009 though. I seriously thought I did, guys. Jesus.**

**The main problem with writing a story over this many years is that my writing changes and improves and deteriorates... I look back and find myself embarassed by certain chapters. I need to seriously go back and re-edit when I have time. But first I'll try to finish this. Stop ****laughing! **


	12. Chapter 11: The Empty Garden

"How grievous not to know the address of one's soul!"

_Book Five: Of Which the End Does Not Resemble the Beginning, IV: The heart beneath the stone_

_**Les Misérables – Victor Hugo**_

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Empty Garden**

**

* * *

**

_**Tidus**_

* * *

There had been days like this before. Days he had worn down the soles of his yellow sneakers from pacing, days his fingers had grown cold around the bars of the black iron gates, waiting for her.

And Tidus had never been patient. He had shown up at the Abes try-outs on his thirteenth birthday, all flash and arrogance, and the old Captain had laughed and told him to grow a few inches and come back in three years. Of course, Tidus hadn't given up there, arguing his case heatedly all the way back to the entrance gates. _Sorry, kid,_ the Captain had apologised gruffly. _Hold onto that tenacity for me - it'll make you a great Blitzer someday. _

It was that same coiled frustration, that same rushing current of determination he had felt as he watched the Abes Captain walk away from him, that had brought him yet again to the gates of Yuna's empty garden.

Three weeks had passed without a whisper of the Southern girl. At first that had not raised any suspicion in him – her old man undoubtedly being the culprit, spiriting her off to the Zanarkand Opera House or Chocobo park or some other feeble substitute for a Blitz game.

Yet as the days passed and the garden gates grew lonely, Tidus had begun to wonder what was keeping her. Her father had been on leave from the Crusaders before after all, and it had never stopped her from coming to the garden in the evening for a hushed, stolen conversation or an eager exchange of the day's news. And Yuna's neighbours were just as in the dark as he – those who had known the family at all spoke of the gentleman of the house as mysterious and aloof, with a pretty little daughter he kept hidden from sight.

But Tidus had always known where to find her. Past the gates and past the ivy and past their favoured moonlit spot, Tidus drove deep into the beating heart of the garden, dipping under tree branches that caught in his hair like long winding fingers. Beads of moonlight escaping through the leaves shifted on his skin and the grass was long and wild, grazing his ankles as he took long, guarded steps. _It looks like it hadn't been cut in weeks_, he realised. _Like no one even lives here._

Yet there were traces of her everywhere. A lonely watering can; a collection of Besaidian seashells arranged just so; a bird table decked with strings of Macalania nuts. Even the hibiscus grew more thickly here. Despite his frustration, Tidus found himself intrigued by this new hidden world, ever desperate to understand the Yuna he had met at the Sending.

As he stepped through the last of the hibiscus, the unpolished stone wall which bordered the garden came into his view, decorated by rainbeaten chalk drawings. Drawn to them, Tidus soon realised they were not drawings at all, but a set of Summoner's glyphs. He recognised some of the forms from the stained glass windows of the old Yevon Temple in C-West. Despite the religion's fallen glory, its symbols were undeniably beautiful. Tidus followed them and tried not to think about the way Yuna had looked when she danced.

Soon the glyph chalkings began to fade into what looked to be Al Bhed verb forms – the kind Tidus was forced to write over and over in his youth until he learned them by memory. _Cra ryt ra ryt drao ryt ryjehk ryt. Drao ghuf ra ghufc ghufehk ghaf. Fa ku ra kuac E ku kuehk kuha_. He studied the wall in surprise. He knew Yuna had been embarrassed by her lack of Al Bhed when she arrived in Zanarkand and had been trying to learn, but he never suspected she had taken the task so seriously. The chalk workings bore evidence of a deep, concentrated labour. _She wanted to bring herself closer to Rikku_, he thought, his heart breaking. _To all of us._

Tidus traced the graceful loops of her letters sadly with his fingertip. He realised vaguely that he had never seen Yuna's writing before. It was spidery and elegant, like her in every aspect. _She had - he had - they had - having - had, _the workings translated from Al Bhed. _They know - he knows – knowing - knew. We go - he goes - I go - going - gone. _He pulled his eyes away, pretending not to be troubled by the words.

Weaving between a nursery of newly planted shoots, the house at last came into view. It was typical North Zanarkand style, plump white marble that belled outwards, enveloped by electric blue floodlights. There were no signs of a disturbance – no broken glass or kicked-in doors - it looked safe, untouched.

That gave Tidus some hope, and so too did the lonely-looking chain of rainbowed Besaidian beads hanging outside an upper level window - the kind Yuna wore in her hair. He had asked her about them once, when they were sitting by the fountain in the East-A plaza.

"_Oh, these? All Besaidian girls have them."_

"_Do the guys have 'em too?" He leaned forward conspiratorially, grinning. _

"_No," she laughed, batting him away. "They are usually made for daughters by their mother, or sometimes between sisters. My teacher Belgemine made these for me. I miss her so much sometimes."_

_Tidus felt sorry for her then, and reached out to brush the beaded braid with a finger, the gesture utterly unconscious. It swayed gently for a moment between her hair and the swell of her cheek, which was glowing brightly. Yuna, clearly embarrassed, fumbled for something to say. She had still been so shy back then. _

"_Ah – and, ah - they have different colours for different occasions. It's not really interesting," she said promptly, mistaking his affectionate smile for teasing._

"_Go on, Yuna. I gotta learn more about Besaid so I can make Lulu bite her tongue once in a while, right?"_

"_Mm," she nodded, smiling herself. "Well, at the coming-of-age – I mean to say, the sixteenth nameday - the beads are blue – and when the first child is born, scarlet, you see? And – ah... When Besaidian girls are married, they are pure white." And she had turned her head away from him in a quick gesture, hair hiding her face, and spoke no more on the subject._

At the memory of her blushing face and the flooding affection that came with it, something inside Tidus snapped. He dipped to take a handful of gravel into his hands and threw it towards Yuna's window with a Blitzer's precision, though with significantly less force. It hit the glass with the sound of hollow rain.

"Yuna!" he rasped, heart thundering.

He hesitated in raising his voice, ever under the spell of the secrecy of their meetings.

_You know what?_ he thought to himself suddenly. _Screw it._ If the old man heard, so what. Tidus could deal with the bastard. Their confrontation had been a long time coming.

"YUNA!" he thundered at her window. "_YUNA!_ _HEY!_ TALK TO ME, DAMNIT!"

He watched for the sudden flash of the lights, for that old man of hers to come storming out.

Yet nothing came, while Tidus waited and waited in the despairing silence, looking up at her lifeless window like a child betrayed. The pungent, too-sweet scent of hibiscus surrounded him, haunting, rendering her absence almost tangible.

When he took his leave at last, his body cold and defeated from the tense anticipation of waiting for her, he found that same scent following him on the long road home.

* * *

_**Jecht**_

* * *

The dream was an old dream.

Bevelle had been a classy city. They didn't have to watch their backs for street thieves like back in Luca, or take pains to evade planks of construction wood and leap unfinished bridges like in Kilika. So when he found himself guarding his Summoner alone while Auron and Jyscal were gathering supplies, Jecht expected the grand sparkling tour, especially from a native noble like Braska.

So when the Summoner had instead expressed his desire to make a particular visit to the slum district, Jecht had been nothing if not suspicious.

A sign hung precariously from the doorway of the inn Braska had led him to, _The Evrae_ spelled out in flaking painted letters. The Summoner himself seemed saddened by the crumbling state of the old building. Then again, all kinds of things made Braska sad. He looked sad when he saw Al-Bhed beggars on the side of the street, sad when little girls gave him flowers, sad when Jecht talked about the boy. The Summoner laughed at Jecht's jokes and even offered a few of his own from time to time, but the man was godsdamned sad down to his bones. It just made Jecht work all the harder.

Yet when he saw the Al Bhed markers on the door, even he couldn't contain his disbelief.

"Are you kiddin' me?" he rasped.

Braska gave him a long, searching look. Even the hardest man would flinch away from those eyes. "The Al-Bhed bother you?" the Lord asked, unnervingly quiet.

Jecht shifted his shoulders. "Hell no, Braska, I don't care if they got green eyes, bug eyes, eyes falling out of their head. But there's gotta be a classier place for you than this, we ain't _that_ broke."

"I have business here," Braska said with mystery. "We will not be staying the night."

Jecht grunted. Braska's word was always final, though what the man had to do with some Al Bhed hiding hole was beyond him. Quickly Jecht put himself before the Summoner - he figured he should, being Braska's Guardian and all. And Auron – the mirthless bastard - was always telling him to be "more vigilant."

Yet inside, it looked like most of the other Al Bhed agencies Jecht had wandered into in his time, nothing to shout Home about. There was a wide desk with a _machina_ buzzer and something in a cage that clearly objected to its confinement. Jecht almost lost a finger when he tried to stroke its feathers, while Braska spoke in undertones to the old bat who ran the place.

"Wait here," the Summoner told him, when an inn porter came to lead him to his 'business'.

But Jecht soon got bored of the old harridan on reception trying to offer him natural Al Bhed remedies, finally deciding to go outside for a breath of fresh air. He stayed close, in the shelter of the doorway, flexing his arm muscles and trying to massage his tender shoulders to distract himself. Uncomfortably he wondered what it was that had brought Braska to this place. _Damnit_. He could make Braska laugh, Auron curse, and Jyscal flinch like a little girl, but none of them took him seriously. _No, that ain't fair,_ he told himself. Braska atleast had shown him more respect during the Pilgrimage than the most reverant Blitzball fan had back in his Abes days. But the man's walls were proving damned impossible to scale.

He was musing on how much the high and mighty Auron might know about his Lord's connection to the Al Bhed when a figure began to emerge out of the dusk air. A child, he realised as the silhouette sharpened – tiny, absurdly doll-like. She was carrying a huge bucket in one hand and a pair of leather sandals in the other. She was limping on one leg, trying to hop.

She froze when she saw Jecht leaning in the doorway.

"You alright, kid?" he called, taking an involuntary step towards her.

The child stared at him for a long moment, probably deciding whether to be frightened by him or not. "I have a bottle in my foot," she said at last from a distance, all seriousness.

Used to child talk, Jecht took her meaning immediately, peering closely at her reddened toes. _A shard maybe, but the fact she's still walking means it ain't as bad as all that._

"A whole bottle, huh?" he played along. "That's gotta hurt. C'mere and sit down, kid."

Jecht gestured to the rickety old bench outside the Inn, where he sat tentatively, waiting to see what she would do. To his surprise she came without question, and lowered herself carefully before him on the hot dry ground.

Jecht retrieved a fine needle from the travel kit Auron had reluctantly thrust upon him at the beginning of the pilgrimage. When she saw what he meant to do, the girl delicately set her hands out behind her for balance and lifted her tiny white foot, just in time for him to catch it up in his hands. She looked up at him calmly, the slight tremble of her lip the only indication she was in any discomfort at all.

Damnit, it was so hard not to think of the boy.

"Why weren't you wearing your shoes, sweetheart?" he asked while he gently probed the wound, to distract himself, and her from the pain.

"They broke again," she said solemnly.

_Poor damn kid. _Her clothes were practically hanging off her. Curious though; she didn't seem to have the swirls marking her an Al Bhed. She had a handsome little face, heart-shaped like a native Bevellian. _So how'd she end up in the slums? _

Jecht realised that while indulging his own curiosity, she had been regarding his tattoo with interest. He laughed aloud; the damn thing _was_ hard to miss.

"You know what that means?" he asked her. She shook her little head, hair the colour of dark honey falling over her eyes.

"What, you never heard of Blitzball, kid?"

"They play Blitzball in the river sometimes. There's a spiky ball." And she twisted her little white hands this way and that, miming, almost losing her balance before she remembered to hold her weight again.

Jecht smiled at her. "This here's the symbol of the Zanarkand Abes, kid, the greatest Blitzball team in Spira!"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, then, after a pause, continued, "are you going to play in the river?"

"Not quite, sweetheart," he laughed. "In Zanarkand, we play in a great stadium, all lit up – that's right, even at night!" Her eyes were so wide and hungry that she didn't even noticed as Jecht dislodged the glass shard at last from her wound. Enjoying the attention, he released her foot and leaned forward, folding his arms on his knees like an old storyteller. "Great Blitzball tournaments are held there; the stands are always full – whole cities come to watch from all over S-"

"_Meddma suuh!"_

Jecht and the little girl both turned, startled by the call. An Al-Bhed woman was standing in the doorway to the Inn. She looked almost ghostly, pale green eyes staring out from underneath a halo of silvery blonde hair. She wore a watered sort of beauty, which Jecht thought would look fuller if she weren't so thin and frail. Her face bore the marks of fresh tears; it was plain she had recently been crying. She inclined her head briefly in Jecht's direction, seemingly untroubled by his presence.

"There is a gentleman waiting to see you," she told the girl, her voice pretty as a bell despite the tearful hitch in her breath. _So the mom's around, atleast. I guess. _Truth be told the Al Bhed looked like she was going to start crying again any moment, and nothing made Jecht more uncomfortable than watching someone cry.

"Go on, sweetheart," he told the little girl hastily. "Your Momma's waitin' on you."

The girl rose to her feet, then picked up her sandals and ran to her mother, graceful as a dancer despite her injury. Halfway to _The Evrae_ she paused, and, remembering her manners, turned to bow to Jecht in the Yevonite way. The way Braska always did.

_**Hey Dad.**__**Dad**__._

_The damn kid had looked so much like Braska. Why hadn't he seen it?_

_**Dad!**_

_Why hadn't he said anything? _

"Hey Dad, _Dad_! Wake up!"

_The boy._ Blurry fear seized Jecht for a moment as his eyes snapped open and Tidus' sheepish face came into focus. "What?" he panicked. "What is it?"

"Relax, Dad." Tidus blinked, looking briefly alarmed by his father's reaction. "I just thought you shouldn't be sleeping on the couch again. You're an old man, your back's gonna give out one of these days."

Jecht made a half-hearted swing at him which Tidus dodged easily. "Watch it, boy. Ain't so old I can't kick your scrawny hide to Mi'hen highway." He rolled to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes groggily with the heels of his hands. "What time is it?"

"Lamps aren't lit yet," said Tidus while kicking off his sneakers.

"You're back early again tonight, boy." Tidus was usually out all hours of the night with his Blitzer coach and Cid's kid, but lately he had been turning up back at the houseboat much earlier. "What reason do your friends have to ditch your sorry ass this time?" He snickered at his own joke.

"Ha ha," came the flat response, unfazed. The boy seemed to be getting less touchy these days. "I just… lost something, okay? I can't concentrate."

Jecht studied his face for a moment; the unmistakable unease written all over his features. _That ain't all it is, boy, _he thought, but what he said was, "Your Mom would have said, look in the last place you saw it."

"I already did." Tidus hesitated, then offered, "It always bugged me when she said that."

Jecht snorted, surprised at the comment. "Me too, kid," he admitted.

Tidus smiled faintly; then seemed to catch himself and quickly smoothed his face, scratching the back of his head like he did when he was nervous, and had done ever since he was a kid. "Well – g'night."

Jecht watched him go with a raised eyebrow. The boy seemed more agitated than anything, probably Tournament nerves, or another fistfight with that damned Al Bhed friend of his, Gippal. _Nothin' to shout Home about._

Besides, Jecht had his own troubles. First the burglary, then the warning from Rin, and now Braska was back in his head, flooding him with old memories that he'd taken pains to forget. _You've been sleepin' a long time, Braska old friend. So why are you givin' me trouble after all this time? _Jecht didn't dream of the pilgrimage very often. Hell, he rarely dreamed a thing. Maybe, he thought, it was because he'd stopped drinking so much now. _The bottle goes, the dreams return. _Jecht scowled, and raised himself from the sofa. It was damn annoying.

Yet at the same time, he thought, picking up the boy's discarded sneakers and setting them by the door… everything felt somehow clearer.

* * *

_**Tidus**_

_**

* * *

**_

He slept fitfully that night. He dreamt of the night at Rin's bar, of finding Dona, except this time it was Yuna who lay above the bloody star, and when he bent to touch her pale face, she dissolved into clouds of pyreflies. He woke in a cold sweat, blinking into the dusk-light that filled his room.

Finding sleep impossible after the unpleasantness of his dreams, he lay awake for a while, turning his glow-in-the-dark Spiran globe over and over in his hands, tracing the lands with his fingertips. Again and again he returned to Besaid, reading the names of landmarks there - Besaid village, Old Yevon Temple, The Western Sands. _There's nothing for her there, _he convinced himself. _She's a Zanarkander now._

As soon as dawn had broken, Tidus rose and dressed, pulling on a black vest and denim shorts in the style of his Blitz uniform. The new day had sent a fresh burst of adrenaline surging within him. He told himself the empty garden had been a bad dream. He had overreacted. He had missed something. She would be back any day. All he had to do was persevere.

He found himself walking his sneakers down that old familiar path from D-East to B-North. Musicians and street performers were setting up, waiting for the early morning influx of children, plucking strings and stretching muscles. He accepted a free newspaper and read it half-heartedly until he realised it was a Youth League propaganda piece about public access to spheres and tossed it disgustedly into a trash can at the next corner.

Somewhere in Yuna's neighbourhood there was a child laughing, shattering the morning hush. As he came closer, he realised the laughter was not coming from the streets, but Yuna's own garden. The realisation sent him running the last distance, pulse racing.

As he approached Yuna's house, the garden gates rushed to meet him. His hands slammed around the bars as he finally saw, not Yuna behind them, but a small boy, standing in the middle of the flower patch with a long stick in one hand.

"Hey! Kid!" he called, panic coursing through his veins.

The boy dropped the stick, startled, and turned to stare at Tidus with his mouth gaping open like a fish.

"Kid!" Tidus tried again. "What are you doing here?"

The boy spun in a blur and ran into the shelter of the trees. Tidus vaulted over the gates without hesitation, sneakers _smacking_ on the other side and sped after him towards the house, finding the past evening's path easily in the daylight.

Inside the house someone was singing an old Yevonite song in soft soprano – a woman's voice – not Yuna's "_-ields you wander, fills your dreams, disturbs your slumber! Oh an otherworld awaits you! an otherworld it takes you!"_

Near the tinted glass door from the house into the garden he could see items sprawled across the grass, looking like they had just been unpacked. The boy was standing amongst them, looking ready to bolt any minute. He was ostensibly native; ash blonde with a Zanarkander nose. Unlikely to be a relation of Yuna's.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you kid," Tidus said carefully, trying not to startle him. "You live here?"

The boy nodded timidly, biting his lip so hard that Tidus could see the skin turn white.

"Okay, so - you live with Yuna, right? You know Yuna, little guy?"

The boy shrugged. In his frustration, Tidus took an involuntary step towards him.

"_Pacce!"_

The singing had stopped. A woman emerged from the door of the house and hurried towards them, face turning fierce when she saw Tidus.

"What are you doing in here?" she barked, gesturing Pacce towards her with her flurried hand movements. "Who are you?"

Tidus introduced himself quickly, showing her the silver chain that marked him a member of the Zanarkand Abes. The woman relaxed visibly, but still appeared vexed by the intrusion. When he explained he was looking for the old tenants, she became defensive.

"We bought this property from a third party, I had no contact with the previous owner," she snapped. "I'm sure if they thought it was important they would have left a new address for you.

Tidus had no choice but to leave then. He walked numbly from the garden as the devastating realisation sank into his bones, the child's renewed laughter like white noise, something in the distance.

_Why would she up and leave like that?_ he asked himself, consumed with confusion. What had changed? _Was it the Sending? _Did it upset her so much that she had begged her old man to take her away? She had been so quiet that night… but then, so had he, musing on the mysteries of her life and how different she had looked when she stopped being Yuna, and started being the Sender.

He was only half surprised when he realised he had walked himself to Lulu and Wakka's door.

"Hey brudda. Any sign of her?" Wakka asked as he met Tidus at the door.

Lulu was waiting in the salon. Tidus sat down on the chair in front of her and bent forwards until his forehead almost touched his knees, driving his hands into his hair, wretched.

"I'll take that as a no, ya?" Wakka said light-heartedly. Tidus didn't have it in him to reply to the joke. "Listen brudda, I gotta go handle the promo for the semi-finals. Sorry Ti. She'll turn up."

In Wakka's absence the stillness stretched long and unbearable, while Lulu in her harsh black stood poised before him like a judge.

"She's gone, Lu," he said quietly.

"You're sure?"

"I went by her house this morning." The admission lingered; the mage was perceptive enough to know to the rest. "I can't stand it," he confessed.

The silence which met his revelation only served to heighten Tidus' unease. Lulu was always the one to sweep in, take charge, make things right. That was who she _was_.

"I don't understand. Why would she do it?" He forced himself to meet those crimson eyes. For once, they were not sympathetic.

"I believe that the most reasonable explanation is that Yuna left as an obligation to her father," Lulu said coolly. "However, that may only be part of it. If her leaving was… encouraged by a belief that you did not particularly hold her in any higher esteem than the rest of us, would you blame her?"

Now it was Tidus' turn to be silent.

Lulu sighed. "She was gracious, generous, kind. She adored you. You knew how she felt about you, didn't you? What was holding you back?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Then what _was_ it?"

"I used to feel sorry for her. I wanted to help her out with her old man."

He could see Lulu was far from pleased by that, but it was the truth. When they had first met, Yuna had been a wide-eyed innocent, all dressed up like a priestess. It was easy to take pity on her, and he liked having pretty girls around. He had enjoyed her reactions to Zanarkand and appreciated her troubles with her father.

He had known that Yuna liked him, true. And he wasn't an idiot either; he knew she was beautiful. But he had never seen her as a girl to date or fool around with. As time went on she became many things – a companion, confidant – but never that. She was just someone who needed him, and he hadn't seen that ever changing.

"So I am to understand that Yuna was little more than a protegee?" Lulu accused, reading his thoughts. "You watched her take her first steps of freedom, proud that you had carved the path for her?"

"I thought that's all I wanted." _When did that change?_ "I told her about Mom," he said aloud, though he hadn't meant to. The night in the garden felt too private even for Lulu to hear.

"After the Sending, you were angry at her."

"Yeah."

"Because she didn't need you for that."

And it had stung like hell. In that instant he couldn't find any of the reflections of Yuna he recognised – not the child he had painted whose hand needed holding, not the starry-eyed islander who needed a seasoned guide, not the pretty girl he coaxed smiles from.

"It is her duty," Lulu was saying. "Her calling. It-"

Tidus lost his threads of restraint. "I _know_, alright? I know it's her thing. I just don't like seeing her do it, okay? I can't stand seeing her like that. _Gods_. She's out there somewhere dancing and I'm not there to take her home."

Finally Lulu seemed to find her sympathy, a touch of gentleness entering her voice. "The father is there."

"He's not a father, he's a gods-damned jailor," Tidus said darkly.

"Yuna didn't think so, and you know it. She loves him; that is something else that you never accepted."

She had hit the mark. Tidus had imagined Yuna taking her leave of Zanarkand reluctantly, challenging her father, standing her ground with that rare wild look he had seen at the Stadium. And he had imagined her leaving quietly, compliantly, with a Sender's stoicism. Painful as it was, his heart found it easier to conjure the latter.

"Tidus." Lulu lowered herself to the ground before him and met his eyes kindly, her hand falling naturally onto his knee. "Now that you feel her absence, have you decided what Yuna means to you?"

In the moment that Lulu spoke her name he understood everything.

All this time he had slowly been taking possession of her. Her happiness, her sadness, her smiles, shy and wild and tremulous as they were; everything that was hers he had knotted to himself, and anything that had threatened that knot he had thrown all his power against without ever fully understanding why; Gippal, her father, the Sending.

He realised he wanted it all. He wanted to take her to Blitz games and call her his girl, he wanted his old man to meet her and tease her and tell her he was far too good for a son like his. He wanted to brush his fingers against the beads in her hair, and see if he couldn't make her stop blushing.

He raised his head, stormy blue eyes having found their resolution at last. "I have to tell her, Lu."

In the mage's face he read the same warning that played in his own mind.

_If I can find her first. _

_**

* * *

**_

_**Rikku**_

_**

* * *

**_

The din was interminable. Pounding machinery, screeching gears and dials spinning violently; fresh silver engines groaning as they were pushed to their limits; orders barked across the shop floor, from sisters to brothers, fathers to daughters, every corner of the factory filled with blaring life. It was music to Al-Bhed ears.

From the cradle Rikku had loved noise and sweat and sandy feet and _machina_. Her first toys were bolts and spanners, the steady background noise of an engine a reassuring lullaby. Sore muscles were a source of pride, an oily face something to be admired. Only five when the Eternal Calm swept Spira, she endured neither the relentless sticking fear of Sin nor the persecution of Al Bhed that her father and brothers had suffered, and so her sunny, optimistic disposition came naturally to her. She was the sweetheart of her extended family and the effortless favourite of her father.

Shyness passed her by; she grew up surrounded by boys' thunder and had to work harder than most to make her presence known, whether it was wrestling her brother for a turn at the wheel of the airship, or persuading her cousins to let her join the latest dig.

Tidus she had met through Gippal, when she was seven and he was nine. He welcomed her into his friendship easily, seemingly immune to the stubborn gender barrier that most boys his age enforced. He was excitable and noisy, but unpredictable and prone to tantrums. If anyone called him 'Jecht Jnr' or even made mention of his mother, he would fly into a fit of temper and storm off with Gippal, who always seemed to understand his friend's troubles more than Rikku.

As Tidus grew in age and fame, his outbursts grew fewer. Only those who knew him well knew that the anger never truly left him - it was only that he lied more often. But Rikku still recognised it lingering in his eyes, bitter steel under blue water.

_Until Yunie came. _

Rikku fought her way through the Machine Faction headquarters with a will of iron. If Lulu was going to be judgemental, and Wakka was going to shrug his shoulders, and Tidus was going to be pathetic – well then – it would fall to _her_ to mend things.

Weaving among the workers on the shop floor with a thief's precision, Rikku tried her best to avoid being delayed by any curiosities. She briefly regretted the chance to inspect a new C6 Primer Snowmobile that her cousin Keyakku was working on but her efforts were soon spoiled in any case.

"_Ru dranna, Rikku!_"a voice called to her in Al-Bhed. It was Nhadala, one of the girls she had grown up with on Home. Rikku stopped to hug her, unable to help herself. "Haven't seen you around here in a while. Your hair's different. You look all grown up."

Rikku brushed it away nervously with her fingers, smiling to herself. She had been growing it out, so gradually that no one close to her tended to notice. When it was long enough she was going to braid it. Lulu had commented of course, and had worked on her husband until he did the same. She would have asked Tidus' opinion, but his mood had been as black as an oil pit lately.

"_What do you mean she's gone?"_ Rikku had demanded when she finally heard the news at Lulu and Wakka's house one night. And Tidus hadn't said anything, the idiot. Just held his head between his hands and stared at his sneakers.

She had never seen him so depressed, not even when the Abes lost the championship last year.

"When are you coming to Omega with us?" Nhadala was saying.

"It's Blitzball season," Rikku shrugged apologetically. At the beginning of the year, she had the keenest intentions of going out to the digs with her father and brother. But high summer had rolled around, and there had been Tidus to cheer, Yuna to show around. And him…

"But the Primers got knocked out already."

Rikku grinned, showing teeth. "I'm an Abes girl."

"Traitor," Nhadala teased, poking her forehead. "Hey, you're friends with that star Blitzer of theirs, right? He's pretty cute, think you could get me a date?"

"Now who's the traitor?" Rikku teased.

"Well, can you or can't you?"

"Sorry!" she chirped. "I'm pretty sure he's taken."

Or he would be soon, if she had her way. Tidus wasn't fooling anyone. It wasn't just the flirting – he'd always been that way - but he softenedaround Yuna in a way Rikku had never seen in all the years she'd known him. It was kind of beautiful. Rikku thought about the person she had come to see and wondered if that day would ever come for him.

She found him at last in the Research and Development workshop. It was as scorching as the Bikanel desert in there, hot steam rising from the rows upon rows of oil barrels. Rikku snatched up a hard hat before entering, pausing to choose one that didn't clash with her outfit.

He had a blowtorch in hand, welding a mechanised part for one of the new submarines for the Omega Ruins dive. Rikku only had to glance at it to know it was top of the range, the freshest technology they had access to. Since Gippal's Dad was head of the Machine faction, it meant he got to work on all the latest developments.

He was wearing a mask to protect his face, but he flipped it up when he saw her coming, and the blowtorch sputtered out.

"Hey, Cid's girl, I'm kinda busy right now. What's up?" He flashed her a dazzling smile around the long nail he held clamped between his teeth. Rikku hated the way it made her heart beat a little faster.

"I need your help," she said unflinchingly. _And stop calling me Cid's girl!_

"Shoot."

Rikku drew a deep breath, encouraged by his easy confidence. "Yunie's gone missing."

Gippal snatched the nail from his mouth, visibly surprised. "What? She ran away?"

"No, not like that. We think maybe she moved away with her pops."

Gippal stared at her for a long moment, wheels clearly turning. Then he turned back to his work. "Then I don't see how it's any of our business."

Rikku fists curled at her side. She glared at Gippal's back with fierce, leonine eyes, her hot desert blood flaring to life. "Yunie's my friend and she was your friend too! Friends don't just forget each other, friends don't just give up on each other!"

Gippal's shoulders fell still before her eyes. In her heart Rikku summoned the boy who had protected her when she was little, the boy who had taught her how to hotwire a hovercraft... the boy who had taken her home after the Sending, an arm around her shoulders all the way. But the oil barrels hissed and spit, and she was only met with silence. When her vision began to blur, she spun on her heel.

"Rikku." Surprised by the use of her given name; even more surprised at how soft it sounded to her ears, Rikku felt herself caught as by a noose, turning hesitantly toward him. Gippal put down the blowtorch carefully, dusted his knees, and rose to meet her suspicion with a rare uncomplicated smile. "You've changed your hair."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

**

* * *

**

I love Rikku/Gippal. But it'll be more subtle than the Tidus/Yuna stuff.

Where in the world is Carmen Sandiago Yuna?

You know what I never do? Once I've made the final draft 'coherent', I never go back and read it and ask myself 'Is this an INTERESTING chapter? If I was reading this, would it be a skip-over chapter?' I just correct the final visible spelling mistake and think 'OH THANK GOD IT'S DONE I'D BETTER POST THIS RIGHT NOW BEFORE I LOSE ANOTHER READER QUICK QUICK QUICK SHANDY QUICKKKKK.' So I hope this chapter isn't dull. I got so bored by the last couple of drafts that I decided to add that Yuna and Tidus flashback which perked me up a little. I think I'm only interested in a chapter when they're interacting. But anyway, I was really unhappy with the ending of one POV. If it reads really rushed in parts, it's because they were passages I was stuck on, and I just tied them up quickly so I could finally post.

Do any of you have the courage to ask when I think I'll have the new chapter up? WELL? DO YOU?


	13. Chapter 12: A Different Chain

"Thus these two beings, so exclusively and touchingly devoted, who had lived so long for each other alone, came to suffer side by side, each through the other, without ever speaking of the matter, without reproaches, each wearing a smile."

_**Les Misérables – Victor Hugo**_

**CHAPTER TWELVE: A Different Chain**

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

Yuna stood leaning head and shoulder against the doorframe of her father's room, staring at the katana and wondering.

In her infancy, that sword had kept him at the Temples or else journeying through the war, far away from she and her mother. She had no memory of her father being there when she was a child, though she reasoned he must have been. Neither could she recall ever seeing her parents together, knowing only that Auron had loved her mother deeply; the pain ever-present in his eyes when Yuna spoke of her could come from no other center.

_My mother must have missed him too. She was always so sad. _When Tidus had drawn upon the memory of his mother easing him from her lap the moment his father appeared, Yuna had felt a stirring in her own heart. In those precious-few hazy memories of her mother she was always distant, as though when she looked at Yuna she saw someone else. _Did she see my father always in my face? _

She desperately wanted to know the circumstances of their first meeting; warrior monk and Al-Bhed peasant. Atleast, she _assumed_ her mother had been very poor towards the end; Yuna remembered having to sell her finer dresses and sandals.

Sighing, she roused herself from the doorframe with the cold knowledge that she could long for these answers in vain. Her father was more guarded and secretive than ever. _Even the sword knows more than me,_ she reflected sadly. _It knows the faces of his ghosts and the history of his scars better than I ever will. _

The room needed airing, but Yuna had been expressly forbidden to unfasten even the shutters. _Only for a short while, _Auron had promised, with an expression so guarded that she hadn't dared argue. Instead she had done the best she could, adorning the rooms with Macalanian seedlings and purifying salt to circulate the air, and dusting the linen and bedsheets throughly every morning. Since Shelinda had taken her leave, she took it upon herself to ensure the house was in order.

Besides, it was a welcome distraction. Here the silence of her old universe had descended upon Yuna like a stone. Gone was the clear ringing laughter of her peers, gone was the vibrancy of their world, gone was the Zanarkand that she had first fallen in love with.

Their new residence was on the outskirts of the ghost district, D-West – Auron had told her that much, atleast. _He has taken us the farthest from Zanarkand we could possibly be and still be in the city, _she realised. There was a cruelty in that, even if her father was unconscious of it. Once again she had found herself separated by a wall from everything she yearned for, yet this time it was one she could not scale.

Instead she threw her daily energies into tending her father. He did not act fearful or nervous, only absent minded; she had to remind him when to eat, where he had left his Sphere recordings (which he would not let her see) and sometimes encourage him to retire for the evening when he sagged in his chair. She gave him painted smiles and sang him fragments of old songs, chattering to him about nothing as she had done when she was a girl; the morning's news, the flowers she was growing. When he was immersed in his own world, she passed the time beading Besaidian braids and reciting her Summoner's chants. She had not had the heart to practise her Al Bhed, nor open the Blitzball instruction manual she had borrowed from Lulu and Wakka's bookshelf._ I will never have the chance to return it to them now, _she thought despondently. _I hope they will not think ill of me for it._

The memory of the couple's unfailing kindness was painful to her now. _You did the only thing you could, _she had to tell herself again and again. _You had no choice but to leave. You weren't meant for their world. _

Such melancholic thoughts were with her often now. Lately, even when she wasn't holding it, it was as though Yuna could feel the weight of the Summoner's Staff constantly beneath her fingers. The Sending meant composure and duty – for almost two years it had leant her strength, and it set her in good standing for the lonely path now ahead of her.

_And I'm not truly alone. I was not made to have a sweetheart but I have my father still. I will be like a Summoner of old, and try to help others instead of thinking of myself. _

But it was something easier said. Memories of Tidus surrounded her like a sweet clinging scent; his gentle teasing by Shiva's fountain, the warmth of his breath by her ear, lying by his side in the sanctity of the garden. At night she dreamt of him waiting for her beyond the wrought-iron gates, and when she woke to the thought of his fond smile she felt hopelessly that in his absence she was more in love with him than ever.

Her chores suddenly made meaningless, Yuna sank onto the edge of her father's bed, fists full of undusted linen, suddenly feeling weary far beyond her seventeen years._ This will not do, _she admonished herself. _Did I not admit I was ashamed of what I had become? There will be no more jealousy in me now, no fears, no selfish hopes._ _And…_ _I always knew I could not keep them both_.

Across the room, Yuna recognized her own solemnity of expression mirrored in the blade of her father's katana. Her eyes fell obediently to the words emblazoned across the steel.

_Live, and fight your sorrow._

* * *

_**Auron**_

* * *

Her moods were changing. Auron looked at her and saw more of Braska in her face with every passing day; a guarded face, eyes clouded with secrets and hooded sorrows.

_She is growing older, _he thought, _full of dreams. Dreams that take her far from me, no doubt._

She had changed so much, even in the short time they had resided in the City of Lights. Underneath the relentless Zanarkand sun her hair had grown a shade lighter, her complexion a touch darker. Even her wardrobe had altered; she dressed less formally these days, her ornamental obi ribbon forsaken for styles more in tune with what Auron recognized among the city's youth.

Yet it was more than that. A new indiscernible _distance_ tore at them, something beyond his old warrior's instincts to grasp. There she sat, gazing into the hearth, her knees curled up behind her, one hand against her temple and a book forgotten in her lap. In the firelight, Yuna's profile reminded him of a statue he had once seen of her namesake, the Lady Yunalesca. The ancient Summoner's likeness had been carved into the walls deep beneath the Remiem Temple, beautiful but darkly melancholic; Braska had been particularly moved. The Lord Summoner had always had that talent of seeing beyond the mask of feminine mystery, but Auron was ever as helpless before it.

"Would you like a cup of blossomwine before you take to bed?" he asked Yuna lightly, desperate to break her silence.

"Hmm?"

"I saved a pitcher from the house," he coaxed. "It's a good vintage. The same as you took on your thirteenth nameday." It had been Yuna's first taste of wine. Her cheeks had been flushed after only two cups and she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder on Besaid Sands. He'd carried her back to Belgemine's hut, smiling all the way.

The memory brought with it a rush of warmth for Auron, but Yuna only smiled at him briefly. "No thankyou, father."

"Are you sleeping better?" he tried again. "Perhaps you should take a pinch of dream powder with your milk. Belgemine used to swear by it."

"My dreams haven't troubled me," she murmured. Yet he noticed that she hadn't taken up her book, and sat ever staring into the softly glowing coals, eyes unreadable.

"How is your grammar coming along?" Auron gestured to the volume in her lap. Ever since their removal to Zanarkand, Yuna had taken a keen interest in learning Al Bhed. It was widely spoken in the North, and he had only ever taught her choice scraps of the language in her girlhood.

The offhand question brought colour to her cheeks at last, though that in itself did more to confuse Auron than reassure him.

"Oh, I wasn't-" she mumbled, flustered. "Ah-" Shyly she lifted the book to show him the cover. It was an old volume of _Door to Tomorrow;_ the chronicles of the Sun Prince who lived in the ancient times before Sin. A child's tale, in truth, all sprawling heroism and forbidden trysts. _I thought she had grown out of those tales long ago._

Auron sighed, suddenly feeling as spent as after a day with the Crusaders. _Would that Braska were here with us. He would Summon your secrets and Dispel your mysteries, I have no doubt. _"Yuna," he said softly, "is anything amiss?"

"Nothing is the matter with me. I am quite well," she said, as though quoting from a book.

_She hides behind that answer like a wall of steel. When did she learn to lie so easily? _he wondered sadly. A stranger could have read her misery. He had confronted her before, these past long nights; but when pressed, Yuna would only speak of the old house; her garden, the trinkets and memories they left behind. Yet he could not believe that this profound grief he read in her was only for their former home.

Besides, it was too late for all that. Auron would not risk returning to their residence in B-North. Had he not had Yuna's sensibilities to take into consideration, he would have had them on the first boat back to Besaid. It was only for her sake that he stayed… but now even that seemed without purpose.

"Yuna, perhaps you should be in bed," he conceded finally. "The sun went down hours ago."

"Zanarkand never sleeps," she murmured, yawning.

Auron laughed. "Where did you hear that old saying?"

He regretted it at once; her expression shifted like frost covering a flower, features giving way to that all too familiar sadness.

"Oh," she said, and her voice was stone. "I don't remember."

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

It was only when Yuna realised her feet were cold that she knew Kimahri was missing. The kitten – almost cat, now – had developed a nightly habit of curling up by her toes. His warmth had helped lull her to sleep in these past difficult weeks when her thoughts ran astray in the evening. For all her father's talk of blossomwine and sleep powder, Yuna did not want to miss the hazy, half-remembered moments when her friends returned to her in the sweetest of dreams.

Sighing, she slipped her legs from underneath the blankets and touched her bare feet to the floor. She dressed quickly, pulling on a simple white skirt and wrinkled printed vest while snatching up a pair of indoor sandals. The kitten would not take long to find – doubtless he was chasing some unfortunate midnight snack.

Auron had the hearing of a flying Condor - even in sleep, she had little doubt – but months of practise with Shelinda coupled with her Sender's training had given her phantom footsteps. _Even a warrior monk such as my father might have found himself matched by a Summoner, long ago when they still walked Spira._ The thought might have been mischievous once, but these days mischief was far from Yuna's mind.

The lower rooms proved empty of the little feline – she searched his crawlspaces, beneath the taps he drank from, the laundry basket and windowsills – all to no avail. Still she hunted, yet as the night grew deeper and Yuna was no closer to finding him, realization hit her like a crack of lightening. _He's gone back to B-North._ She had feared as much ever since they left their old residence. Auron had told her that the Crusaders found Kimahri guarding his former master's grave. The creature had a deep-set impression of _home_, and he had obviously decided this was not it. _I cannot blame him,_ Yuna thought. B-North was always home in her mind, too. Her heart ached for the little wild garden.

Here in the ghost town of D-West, they owned no garden; the house had only one main entrance which spilled out onto the street. When Yuna unlocked the door, it _clicked_ open softly, like a sigh. The night sky poured in like a wave, a vast starlessness.

She found herself standing in the doorway as though leaning over the stern of a ship, hands clinging to the wood at either side to keep her from falling. She sucked the hot night air into her lungs, the effect like drinking too much champagne at once; leaving her dizzy, intoxicated.

After that first familiar breath, that irresistible taste of Zanarkand, the decision was easy. Yuna drew a deep breath, and slipped into the night.

The movement was soft, fluid, like sinking into a bath. Her feet moved of their own accord, sandals slapping against the pavement; her white skirts swished between her legs, a musical sound. She wanted to run, to lift her head to the sky and laugh.

Such unnatural behavior would have likely gone unnoticed. The street before her was as empty as a beach in winter; the residents here were mostly couples or families searching for an easy escape from the cacophony of the city, yet unable to bear the expense of uprooting to somewhere more peaceful like Djose or Kilika.

A pretty row of regimental orange trees led west towards the old Yevon church - she knew that much – and beyond it, Zanarkand's core. Yuna followed them, sometimes skipping, sometimes raising a hand to brush her fingers against the leaves. Far away she could smell hot spiced Macalania nuts, the scent bringing with it a rush of dear memories. When she passed the Old Yevon church she thought she heard the distant gushing of fountains. It was as though Zanarkand was singing to her.

Soon she began to have company on the road - an old man sweeping the street outside his home tipped his hat to her; a group of young boys raced past her screaming and taunting each other, one almost knocking her to the ground in his haste. A couple broke their interlocking hands to let her slip between them, but they reached for each other as soon as she had passed. Yuna loved them for that, almost as much as she envied them.

She knew she was reaching the heart of the city when rotating _machina_ billboards began to rise up before her. She studied them with a renewed energetic curiosity in all things Zanarkand, scanning all the new propaganda for the ever-growing Youth League movement, admiring the advertisements for luxury vacations in the Calm Lands, even taking note of all the new _Potion_ soft drinks that had been released in her absence.

And then she saw him.

The tagline read 'Abes through the Ages', obviously showcasing several of Zanarkand's most memorable Blitz talents over the years. But it was Tidus that featured front and centre, captured in a daring mid-air pose, beads of water visible on his skin.

Yuna drew as close to the billboard as she dared, lifting her neck to study the detail of him. The sand of his hair, the laughter of his eyes, his face that promised cheer and sunlight and long stretching beaches. And that smile, full of confidence, so painfully familiar to her heart. She pressed her palm against the fabric of her shirt, trying to quiet the desperate thudding in her chest. _I wonder what he's doing now. I wonder where he is tonight. _She pictured him at a Blitzball game, fierce and dangerous and focused, or buying Rikku trinkets in the A-East market. She pictured him surrounded by his Blitzer girls, smiling in that way she had once thought was only for her.

Reluctantly Yuna pulled her eyes away from him and focused her attention on the other figures in the poster. There was a boy she thought might be the famous goalkeeper they used to call 'The Boulder' (he was one of Wakka's heroes) and a girl with a scar across her eye and hair as white as a Gagazet mountaintop.

Yet it was the last figure who gave her pause. A beast of a man, his dark hair held back from his face with a red bandana and the Abes insignia tattooed across his chest. The scrawl of the tattoo and the redness of the bandana was like a signal flare across her memory and as Yuna looked at him she felt as though she could hear his voice – rasping, gravelly, yet kind. In her mind she remembered how tall this man was, how he towered over her, though never with a threatening air. And yet… Tidus had introduced her to everyone in the Abes and this man was not part of them.

The hazy, haunting half-memory filled her with trepidation, more so because she suddenly felt the full force of her current situation; alone in the labyrinth of Zanarkand as the night wrapped around her. The man's gaze seemed to follow her, an uneasy sensation, and suddenly Yuna wanted nothing more than to run back to somewhere familiar.

In her haste she turned away from the poster, and walked straight into her father.

* * *

_**Auron**_

* * *

"Yuna," he said with as much patience as he could summon, "do you understand what I'm telling you?"

He could still feel his Guardian's fire coursing thickly through his veins. It was a sensation long forgotten, one that he had not felt since the first days of the Pilgrimage and Jecht's early blunders. Of course, while he had always directed the full force of his anger at Jecht, Auron restrained himself when facing Yuna. _Remember how young she is,_ he had to tell himself. Yet he knew also that his deepest rages were borne from his deepest fears. And he could not think of anything he feared more than losing her.

Reading Yuna's absence had been like a sixth sense. As a Guardian he had become deeply attuned to Braska's habits and movements, and he had even longer to grow acquainted with Yuna's. At first he thought she'd been sleepwalking - Shelinda had warned him she sometimes "walked the house like a ghost at night" - but he knew she was lucid as soon as he caught sight of her face in the lamplight – the guilt written there had been quite real, that much was obvious.

"I was only looking for Kimahri," she was explaining, standing before Auron like a criminal on trial, back in the safety of their D-West residence. "I wasn't going far. I think he's going back to the old hou-"

"Yuna, you're not listening!" he snapped at her. "You cannot simply venture out into the streets at night for something with such little purpose. I won't have you risk yourself for a damned beast!"

"Risk myself," she repeated disbelievingly, staring.

"You were never so thoughtless, Yuna! Had you taken leave of all your senses? What has come over you lately? You _will_ explain yourself!"

"There's nothing the matter with me," she repeated quietly, falling on her old familiar response.

Yet her cheeks were flushed pink and he knew at last that dishonesty was playing its part in her tale. _And I thought it was her fear that made her silent. Fool, fool!_ he admonished himself. The certainty that she was lying to his face stirred the embers of his fury. Auron caught up her arm in a rough grip, jerking her forward until she finally met his eyes, startled.

"_What are you hiding from me?"_ he asked darkly.

To his surprise, Yuna pulled free from him, eyes bright and fierce. "No!" she said hotly, "What are you hiding from _me_?"

Even before he had the chance to register her reaction she had composed herself, summoning control as was her talent. She closed her eyes for a long breath, and when she opened them again they were full of sadness.

"Father, what are we going to do?" she asked him softly. "Are we simply going to shut ourselves away forever?"

"I've told you not to trouble yourself over-"

"There was a man on the Blitzball poster," she continued. "There was a man on the Blitzball poster with dark hair and the Ab – and a symbol. I know him somehow - not from now, from long ago. How do I know him?"

Words failed him then, but his once-guarded eyes betrayed a history shrouded in secrets.

"You know him too, don't you?" Yuna realised. "Is he the reason why you hate Blitzball so much?"

The simple word roused him, bringing with it all those bitter memories. "Yuna, I warn you, I will not hear-"

"_Why_ won't you tell me about my mother?" she interrupted. Auron flinched at the question as though struck, and Yuna felt it keenly.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, "Forgive me, I know it pains you to think of her!" Yuna fell at his feet and clasped her hands to his knees. She looked like the prayer girls he used to see in Bevelle Temple before the Eternal Calm, at the foot of some Yevonite statue, pleading for mercy. "But I'm in pain too, for your sake and for mine. Why can't we share it?"

_Why must you always ask me about her?_ _Why aren't I enough for you?_

"Why won't you tell me what happened in your past? If we are to shut ourselves away from the world forever - won't you tell me what we're hiding from?" Her eyes were anguished. "Why won't you tell me what has hurt you so much?"

_Why did you leave the house, Yuna? What were you really looking for? _

They stared at one another, one wanting no answers to their questions, the other desperately desiring all.

"Why won't you _trust_ _me_? Nothing you tell me could make me love you any less! I'm your _daughter_."

It was the worst thing she could have said at that moment. Hot anger knifed through Auron. _Those damnable, wretched secrets. _He wanted to forget, forget, forget._ Braska was the one that died, but it's me she kills when she says those words._

Auron had once seen the world break, had seen the face of evil, had seen blood run black down the blade of his katana. He had seen the only thing he loved cut down before his eyes, and he had known true hatred_._ Auron had fought to put that long suffering behind him; he would never embrace that past while he still drew breath. Not even for her.

When he spoke at last, his voice was as harsh as steel being drawn from its scabbard. "_Enough_ of this foolishness," he told her. "We will not speak of this again. Do you understand me? Enough!"

Yuna stared at him for a long moment in desolation, eyes shining with betrayal. He forced himself to meet that stare until she left the room.

Only then did he allow himself to crumple in his chair and stare emptily at the open door. The argument had stolen all his energy, and most of his hope. _It all went to ruins when we left Besaid_, he realised_. _He thought back to the timelessness of that Isle; to those white beaches, rainbow-coloured huts, the innocence of the gently stretching waves. The chanting of the islanders, their lullaby world. Zanarkand in contrast was like a pulsing wound, constantly shifting the very ground beneath their feet. _I should have known never to return to this cursed city and all its damned ghosts._

Auron briefly considered Besaid as their panacea – it, atleast, had no memory – yet he knew of course that it was too late for that. If he returned to Besaid, he would lose Yuna forever. He was caught now, swallowed up in Zanarkand, drowning in it. The city had swallowed up his daughter too. _No, not mine._

It was Braska he had seen in her eyes a moment ago - accusing him, haunting him, filling his heart with an uncertainty such as he had not felt since the day he had first met his future Summoner.

Auron had been so sure of himself at first, young and vigorous and fresh from his training, black hair long and styled as a warrior's, so eager for service, so hungry for a Summoner to Guard at last. His self-assurance had lasted until the moment he had first looked into the face of his new charge – the tall Lordling with the dark, grave eyes. One glance and Auron knew that the Summoner had more knowledge than he ever would, and that knowledge seemed so vast and profound he had been unable to speak, beyond repeating the sacred oath taught to him. _Is this what all Summoners look like?_ had been his initial thought, struck with awe.

Later he learned that Summoners could be worthy and unworthy, just as their Guardians could be. Braska's wisdom had been all his own. And Auron, who had never known a kind word, had loved his Lord from the first. Yet during the long year of their Pilgrimage, no matter how much Braska treated him as such, Auron knew he had never been Braska's equal.

_A servant__ I was, always. Never a friend. _And now... A servant would protect Braska's daughter, nothing more. A servant would spirit her to Besaid and never mind her happiness. A servant would think first of her safety, not fear losing a love that he never had any right to.

_Promise me, Auron_, rang Braska's voice in his memory._ Promise me._

Auron's hand fisted and uncurled on the armrest, the raging internal battle one he had long resisted; her health and happiness, or her safety. And yet… could he secure both? Suffocate the danger at its source, and he would win their freedom. _Yes,_ he decided, _yes, it is the only way._ To do that, he would need to take up the sword once more. And in his absence, leave a worthy shield… to stand at her side.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

* * *

**Yikes, I finished this in a total rush-job and it shows. I'm getting so terrible at ending chapters, I just can't do it. I need to take notes from how actual authors do it. But, if I didn't finish it tonight it probably would have taken another month for me to post. **

**I am clearly in love with the semi-colon. I don't think I'm using it correctly half the time. **

**Well, it's shorter than the other chapters, but atleast there's a bit of development that I know a lot of you have been hoping to see with Yuna gaining some initiative and not just bowing to Auron's will. **

**If there are glaring mistakes or any half sentences please let me know in the comments as I didn't check it over very throughly. **

**I've written almost all of Chapter 14 but almost none of Chapter 13. Handy, huh? **

**Thanks to those of you who are still with me. Lots of love and appreciation to all of you, I mean it. **

**Shandy **


	14. Chapter 13: Hand in Hand

"Day followed day, and nothing new presented itself. It merely seemed to him, that the sombre space which still remained to be traversed by him was growing shorter with every instant."

_IV: An Apparition to Marius_

_**Les Misérables – Victor Hugo**_

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Hand in Hand**

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

Tidus had always been able to draw a crowd in A-East. There was nothing easier - an Abes uniform, a couple of Blitzball tricks and the fans would show up in force. Some of their more religious followers could be known to wait in the Plaza all day just to get a signature. If he created enough buzz, or if it was tournament season, even a few camera crews would show up.

This particular day, fuelled by an overwhelming victory against the Duggles, Tidus had climbed up onto the town crier's plinth to give a spur-of-the-moment speech about the upcoming Spiran Cup. Rikku was there, of course, to lead the cheers. She'd supported the Al Bhed Psyches when he first met her, but he'd changed that soon enough.

"Last year we let the Crystal Cup slip through our fingers!" he was yelling to the crowd steadily gathering below the plinth. "This time, we're gonna grab it with both hands!"

The surrounding throng broke into automatic cheer, hooting and applauding sounding across the square, little plastic Abes flags waving with grand spectacle.

"**Do your best** isn't good enough for us. Not when we're representing **the greatest city in the whole of Spira!**" That _always_ got the crowd riled up. "So tell me – _what's our goal?_"

"_VICTORY!" _came the returning cry, the roar of the crowd sizzling beneath his feet like the approach of an underground _machina_.

"That's right!" Tidus cried. "Win every match! Defeat every team! We're gonna bring the Crystal Cup **back home where it belongs!**"

Cries of "The Abes!" and "Victory! Victory!" reverberated around the Plaza. After that, Tidus was so fired up he would have just kept talking… if it hadn't been for the girl.

He didn't know how long she had been there before he noticed her - a young girl, no older than seventeen – holding herself apart from the crowd, looking as out of place as a bird in a deep ocean. Her foreign colourings marked her a lonely figure – her skin with a lunar paleness, her russet head in a sky full of suns - dressed as though she had stepped into the Plaza from another age, an age of Summoners and Aeons and ancient things. And boy, was she was ever beautiful.

"Hi there," Tidus found himself saying.

The girl slowly lifted her bi-coloured eyes and gazed up at him with an expression so sad and haunting it pierced him to the core. She made a little bowing gesture like a prayer girl – a farewell gesture – and turned away from him.

Tidus felt confusion swell in his chest as his eyes followed her. _She's lost,_ he realised, seeing her take a bad alley.

The crowd had dispersed now, along with Rikku, and Tidus found himself alone on the plinth. The air around him seemed to stick, and for a moment an unshakable paralysis was upon him. When it broke, he leapt from the plinth in a lightening split second to follow her. His sneakers rang against the pavement like they were made of stone. The girl walked ahead of him, always out of reach, and though she must have heard his footsteps, she never looked back, never turned to see if he was there. He wanted to see her face again, just for a second, but how could he call her when he didn't know her name?

He walked a little faster now, following her down the back alleys of A-East, past the low-hanging window boxes dripping with hibiscus flowers, never seeming to get any closer to her. When she turned a corner into the old smuggler's alley, he lost her completely. He heard the whistle grow fainter, and then he was running, running as fast as he ever had. He ran so fast he almost slammed into the black iron gates.

Tidus gazed up at them in despair; the thick, nightmarish bars seemed to rise up into the thundering clouds. He rattled the iron; shook the bars, cursed them, beat his gloves against them until the leather tore and his knuckles bled, and all the while the whistle grew fainter still.

Then he remembered her name.

"_YUNA!"_

He woke breathless, as though the weight of an ocean was pressing down on him. Tidus lunged forwards in his bed, gulping for air. The dream had taken hold like a suffocating claw, so vivid that it took him a blurry moment to separate the illusions from reality.

He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. _Just another dream,_ he reassured himself, _it was just another dream. _It hadn't been as bad as some of the others. The dreams where she ran from him, hated him, or, worst of all, the dreams where she lay lifeless above the bloody star.

With a tremendous effort Tidus peeled away his sweat-soaked coverlets and stumbled from the bed. He hadn't been getting much sleep lately. His game was suffering because of it too - he'd been sloppy and distracted at practice lately - but Wakka never gave him a hard time over it. He suspected Lulu had a lot to do with that.

When he climbed into the shower and pushed his head underneath the jet, Tidus felt the dream begin to wash away. As soon as the force of the spray slammed into him, a rush of adrenaline shot through his veins. _Blitz fever,_ he thought wryly. All players joked about experiencing the phenomenon in a power shower. The sharpened senses, the burn of increased energy. And with it, a blast of fresh determination to find the girl he had lost.

After all, he thought, surrendering simply wasn't in his blood. _I'm coming for you, Yuna._

Once he had dressed and towelled dry his hair, he found Rikku waiting for him on the harbour deck with breakfast-to-go from _Zaons_. Tidus gulped down the pulpy paupou drink she had brought him and attacked the hot _kymdda_ pastry with both hands. He finished so fast that Rikku was shaking her head by the end of it.

"Okay, Ace!" she commanded, as though calling him to attention. "We ready to go?"

Tidus had to smile. Sometimes he thought Rikku's enthusiasm was all that got him through the day.

The little Al Bhed had been his faithful shadow these past difficult weeks. She was the only one who'd insisted on joining the search for Yuna. As Abes Captain, Wakka had been busy preparing for the annual Blitz Ball. And Lulu… she had offered her aid only sparingly, which had disappointed him more than he would ever dare say to the mage's face.

But Rikku… she had gone as far as pulling favours with her other friends to join the search for Yuna. Even her Brother had offered to help, but his sister had shot down that idea in an instant. _"He's got a stupid annoying __**crush**__ on her," _she had confided to Tidus, mortified. _"He's so __**embarrassing**__! If he got to Yunie first he'd probably just scare her away again!" _

Together he and Rikku had searched every site that Yuna had ever made mention of; the Zanarkand Opera house, the botanical gardens, the _machina_ museum, the Moogle sanctuary in A-North. Every bookshop, every library, even a carpenter's shop tucked away in B-South which made stunning Summoner staffs for Senders and collectors. Many of their workers remembered her passing with her father or an older woman Tidus assumed was the Acolyte, but not since before the Sending.

That morning he and Rikku made their rounds; the lemondrop park in D-West which had been a favourite of Yuna's, the fountains in A-East plaza which had sometimes been their meeting spot after a game, even Silverwings - as unlikely as that was, Tidus was not unwilling to overlook any possibility. He had even asked one of the employees who worked the cameras on the crowds at Zanarkand Stadium to get a shot of any girl of Yuna's description. The guy hadn't protested much at _that_ request.

The C-North library had been Tidus' idea. Yuna had never spoken of it, but it was the closest source of literature available to her, and anyone could see that she was well-read. Unsurprisingly, the boy at the information desk knew exactly who they were speaking of.

"Yeah, I know her," he told them, a typical Zanarkand youth with handsome features and cropped blonde hair. "The girl that wears those weird beads in her hair? Shy little thing. Cute though, in a kittenish kind of way."

"Yeah_,_" Tidus said through gritted teeth.

The boy turned to Rikku, smiling flirtatiously. "She a relative of yours, sweetheart? You got the same look."

"Nope!" Rikku replied easily. "Just a friend!" _Good thing Rikku can see through your act, _Tidus thought to himself. "Do you remember when she was here last?

The boy stretched in his chair. "Hasn't been here for a while, I would have remembered. I think she was learning Al Bhed or something. Her Dad always takes a bunch of _Phoenix Down_ broadsheets. The dude was always glaring at me." It was the only time Tidus had ever felt grateful of Yuna's father.

"The girl was friendly enough," he carried on, oblivious to the glare he was receiving from the Blitzball player. "When I could get a word out of her. Would have liked to have seen a little more skin though, if you know what I mean."

Rikku dragged Tidus out of the library before he could punch the guy.

"What's a guy like him doing working somewhere like that?" Tidus complained all the way back to B-North. _Probably terrorizing all the sweet girls like Yuna. He belongs in some seedy bar in C-South. _

"Oh, summer job, probably," suggested Rikku in a too-innocent voice. He realised she was trying to reign in laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"He's just like you, you know. A big flirt."

"Woah, I'm sorry – you're comparing me to _that_ guy?"

Rikku rolled her eyes. "The day before Yunie left, you were flirting with that all-girl Blitzer team right in front of her!"

"What?"

"Don't deny it - you were flirting like crazy!"

"_What?_ No I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!"

Tidus bit off a retort, genuinely taken back by the insinuation. He thought back to that thundery day of the Kilika Beasts match, remembered how how strange and distant Yuna had first acted when he met her. Sure, he had talked to the girls, complimented them even, but it hadn't _meant_ anything. "Not _seriously_," he told Rikku disbelievingly.

The Al Bhed girl sent him a meaningful look. "How is Yunie supposed to know that?"

It was a slap in the face, and it was followed by a long, guilty silence. _Is that really what it looked like to her?_ "I really messed up, huh?" Tidus said eventually.

Rikku sighed noisily, exasperated. "She'd never look at any of those guys anyway, _cemmo_. We girls are like that, you know."

Tidus considered her then, walking beside him with an uncharacteristically solemn look on her young face. He wondered if she was thinking of Gippal. Sometimes he forgot that she would be turning seventeen next year. _She's changing too, and I hadn't even noticed it._ Maybe that was what made him put an arm around her shoulders.

"Thanks, Rikku," he said quietly as she leaned into him, and meant it.

They stopped by the wild garden last. Tidus hadn't been back since that day with the boy, but it had always called to him. Somehow, with Rikku there, he found the strength to stand before those iron gates again. The ivy was still as full and thick as ever, he noticed, but only a few of the hibiscus were surviving the new young tenant. Most were visibly withering – the rest clung to the walls and nestled between the black iron bars, seeking safe haven from restless feet.

Rikku peered unashamedly into the garden. "This is where you guys used to meet, huh?" When he nodded, she became nostalgic. "I only came here once before. She was sitting right over there, see? - half asleep and everything! It was when we went to your Blitz match together. The Psyches game, you remember? She was so _shy_, she barely spoke to me unless I said something first."

"She was always shy," Tidus agreed softly. "You remember that night at Silverwings? She was holding that menu like it was some kind of life raft." He smiled. "But sometimes she got this look in her eyes… like that night I took her to the stadium for the first time." He ran a hand through his hair. "Gods, I loved it when she lit up like that. That all feels so long ago now..."

They stood side by side in the colourless silence, staring into the emptiness, the dying flowers. Tidus felt like a body being carried on the waves, waiting and waiting to break upon the shore. There was nothing to take hold of, and the sea stretched before him for miles.

A shrill ringing broke the mood that had descended over him, and he noticed Rikku fishing in her pocket for her CommSphere. As a courtesy, Tidus turned away, but he recognised the sound of Gippal's voice at the end of the link.

"Ehhhh? Fryd geht uv**cusadrehk**?Yht tu hud lymm sa _Cid's girl_!" Rikku was yelling into the commsphere, sounding exasperated.

They were speaking in Al Bhed far too rapidly for Tidus to catch anything useful. Instead he could only listen with a lingering sense of envy. In the past, he might have interrupted the conversation with a smart remark, exchanging light-hearted barbs with Gippal until Rikku put an end to it. Tidus missed the Al Bhed mechanic more than he would ever admit. Gippal could be a jackass at times, but he had been Tidus' best friend since they were both crawling, and would have known exactly how to take his mind off Yuna.

"_Naymmo?_ E femm pa drana nekrd yfyo!"

Rikku cut the link abruptly with a _snap_ and turned to Tidus. "I have to go home now," she told him. Whatever it was that Gippal had said to her, she obviously had no intention of sharing.

"Thanks for today," he told her again.

He must have looked pathetic standing there on his own, because she hesitated before leaving. "Listen," she told him. "Don't give up, okay? We'll find her soon, for sure."

"I'm not," Tidus promised. "I won't."

"Good, because I don't want to have to kick you."

He smiled at her weakly. It was Rikku's unique brand of sympathy, too honest for him to ever resent.

When she was gone he wrapped his hands around the bars of the garden gates, thinking about the last time he had seen Yuna. The memory of their last night together tortured him - Dona's body above the bloody star, the emptiness on Yuna's face as she danced, the unrelenting rain. What were the last words they said to each other? _Did I even say goodnight to her?_ He must have seemed so cold.,,

As he gazed into the vacant garden, he imagined Yuna standing silent in the sphere of moonlight there, hand locked around that little silver necklace she always wore. He pictured the way she always tried to hide her yawns behind her hand, and thought he would break with longing.

"Where did you go?" he said quietly, achingly into the garden. "You're missing everything. With Rikku, and… the Blitz Ball is coming up, I wanted to surprise you. I was always going to take you, even before..." He closed his eyes. "I miss you, Yuna."

_What am I doing? _he thought all of a sudden. _This isn't the Farplane. Just __**thinking**__ of her isn't going to make her appear before me._ Much as he might wish it would.

Actions would bring her back, not wishes, and tomorrow was another day.

When Tidus turned to leave, he almost tripped over a cat lurking before the gates. Cursing, he knelt to see if he'd hurt the thing, when he recognised the ragged left ear.

"Kimahri," he acknowledged with a start, plucking the name from the edge of his memories. "What are you still doing here, little guy?"

Tidus grabbed him by the scruff of the neck before he could scamper off. Even given the ragged ear, the kitten looked a little scrawnier than he had the last time Tidus had seen him, like he hadn't eaten in days.

His heart pounded in his chest. Should he take this as a sign of hope? Yuna would never have left Kimahri behind willingly, he knew that much. _She would never have left Zanarkand without him…_ _so does that mean she's still here?_ Or did it mean she'd been swept away against her will, with no time to take her pet?

"Guess it's too much to hope that you could take me to Yuna, huh?" he asked the kitten, setting him down gently.

Released at last, Kimahri turned his attentions to a dead hibiscus husk, pouncing on its white spidery form, attempting to ingest it, then making a choking sound.

Tidus sighed. "Thought so." He tried to bury the implications of the kitten's presence at the garden for now, instead kneeling to scoop the beast into his arms. _Guess you're coming home with me for now, little guy, _he thought, ruffling the silky bluish fur. Kimahri settled around his shoulders like a scarf, yawning just as his Mistress had been prone to do. It was a comforting sensation, holding something of hers. And comforting too, for the first time, not to take the path back to the houseboat alone.

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

The light of a polished moon shifted through the suburb of D-West, casting shadows through Yuna's window and over the pages of her book. She pinched the bridge of her nose in an effort to awake her senses. She felt as though she had been reading since dawn.

Well-thumbed volumes of Summoner lore covered her bed like a patchwork quilt. Guardian's travel diaries, old legends of Yunalesca and Zaon, the memoirs of Lady Yocun, all the Sender literature that Belgemine had kindly left to her; Yuna poured over each of them in turn. She studied tedious military accounts of battles with Sin and devoured books of old Yevonite hymns until her eyes were sore, all in the pursuit of magery.

If they were going to face any danger, Yuna would have to be prepared in her own way. She had no hope of matching someone of Lulu's capabilities, of course - it would take years for her to even acquire half the black mage's skill. But from her reading it seemed as though those who had the talent for the Sending often had a natural affinity for healing magic. And she thought that defensive magic, though notoriously difficult, might be within her potential too. The difficulty was, of course, that magery was a dying art. Its centre of learning had been within the Yevonite temples, now ten years extinct. Why would Spira pass on the knowledge - who wanted the violence of the black arts to shatter the Eternal Calm? Even white magic was vanishing, now that Spira had embraced _machina_ and Al Bhed remedies. _The best hope I have is gathering what I can from these pages. _

Consuming what little knowledge she could had also kept her mind from more painful matters. Since her quarrel with Auron, Yuna had spent most of her time upstairs in her room in a state of self-exile, by turns angry, sorry and fearful for her father. For herself, she felt wretched for losing her restraint on the subject of her mother and causing him unnecessary suffering.

_I would rather never know my mother's name, _she had told Lulu once, _than see that pain in his eyes again._ Yet she had blurted the question almost before she could form a thought. _Why won't you tell me about my mother? _His silence on that matter she would always forgive, but not so the rest of his secrets, not when they continued to cast a shadow over his life and hers. She was done with artificial smiles, with their false theatre. It was truth she wanted, the truth that she had paid for with the sacrifice of her friends.

Sighing, Yuna laid the book open on its spine, rising from the bed to light a few solitary candles around her room. Watching them flicker to life always reminded her of the bonfires held by the villagers on Besaid Sands – the shadows dancing and twisting on her walls like exotic dancers.

When she felt she had enough light, Yuna went to her window and drew the curtains closed, shutting out the moon, the streetlights and above all, Zanarkand. It was a feeble effort, but the only defense she had against the gnawing fang of melancholy. The evening was the most difficult time to keep her mind from wandering.

She missed the gentle distraction of Kimahri. She knew Auron had returned to their old house several times under cover of darkness to try to retrieve the little creature, but it was all to no avail. The kitten was run away, lost or dead. _I should have given him a collar_, Yuna admonished herself_._ Yet he had seemed such a free spirit she had decided it wouldn't be fair to him. When she thought about Kimahri wandering the streets alone and half-starved it brought tears to her eyes.

Unable to face thinking of him, or introduce herself to yet another volume of soulless Summoner lore, Yuna scanned her room for a worthier distraction. Her gaze finally fell upon the boxes stacked against the far wall, belongings salvaged from the old house in B-North. Until now, Yuna had found herself unable to confront the task of unpacking them. Like Kimahri, she had been unwilling to accept this place as her new home. But that was before she knew the depths of her father's resolve.

Once she had disassembled the tower of boxes, Yuna knelt beside the first and carefully pulled open the cardboard flaps. One by one she began to reverently remove the items, allowing each memory to blossom in her hand for a moment like a lingering perfume, then set them on the floor beside her. It was full of familiar southern mementos; rainbowed Besadian beads and rare white seashells from the depths of the Baaj sea. One of her favourite trinkets was wrapped in tissue - a little glass bird, its hollow centre filled with dyed blue sand. _A present for my First Sending,_ she recalled. Other items went further back; a red felt shoe from a ragdoll she had owned in Bevelle, and some were more recent, such as a calendar of Zanarkand scenery that she had purchased at a gallery with Shelinda.

When she spotted the faded music box, Yuna smiled. She couldn't remember how she came to own it – a cast-off from one of the islanders, perhaps – but she did remember learning the lyrics from Belgemine. It played a Bevellian love song so ancient that no one knew its origins. When she was a child the words had seemed so incomprehensible to her that she had implored her old teacher to tell her what they meant. Belgemine had smiled beautifully and told her that day would come when she was older.

Yuna held the box nestled in her open palm, almost afraid to awaken it. Yet her fingers began to caress the handle almost by impulse and the little song from her childhood floated back to her, the music twinkling sweetly.

_"If we could walk hand in hand,"_ Yuna half-murmured, half-sang, remembering. _"I'd want to go to your land, your home, in your arms-"_

She froze when she saw her father standing outside her doorway. Strangely, he was smiling at her. It reminded her of when she was a child and wholly occupied with some innocent task, and she would turn to find him watching her with that same unreadable smile, his thoughts as remote and mysterious to her as they ever had been, and ever would be. Yuna blushed, embarrassed at being caught in the song.

"Come downstairs," Auron told her, straightening. "I want to speak with you."

He had lit a fire in the little salon. Yuna, too restless to sit, and too wounded from their late argument to meet his eyes without any condemnation, chose to stand by the hearth as he spoke.

"I am leaving tomorrow evening," he said without preamble.

She paled at once. "Where? Where are you going to go?"

"There is something I need to do."

_If he leaves, he will never return_. An icy, sickening dread engulfed her. "_**No**__,_"she told him hoarsely.

"I am simply gone to make enquiries," he hastened to assure her. "There will be no fighting, no battles. It will be a safer journey than any Crusader mission, I promise you."  
He smiled at her wearily. "I thought you would be glad to be rid of me for a time."

Yuna rounded on him then. "How can you talk like this is all a joke?" she accused. "It's your _life_ we're speaking of! You tell me nothing, how can you expect me to let you leave and not fear for you?"

Auron grew serious at that, the same way he had when teaching her the most difficult lessons in her girlhood. The lessons which dealt with life and death. At times like those, Yuna could always see the warrior in him; a reminder that, before he had been her father, he had been something else entirely. As a child it had fascinated her, that subtle change in him, but now it only filled her heart with trepidation. "I have carried this _katana_ since before you were born." All warmth had fled his voice. "Men like me have nothing to fear from the any leavings of the Eternal Calm."

Yuna turned away from him. "What do I know of the battles you've won, the battles you've lost," she said, not without bitterness. _The scar on your face is proof that you are not invincible, father. _She found she could not voice the thought aloud, but whether due to fear of bruising his pride or fear of admitting the disturbing truth to herself she did not know.

When she felt the weight of his hand on her shoulder, she thought that she would cry. "Yuna," he said quietly, "I would not leave you, if I thought there was some danger I could not return to you. That would be my worst failing."

She trembled beneath his hand, overcome with love even as her heart threatened to break. The child in her wanted to throw herself into the safety of his arms, close her eyes to everything and give herself over to his keeping once more. But she was not a child any longer. _What is it all for?_ she thought despairingly. _What does it all mean, if this is the person I will spend the rest of my life with, and he will not even trust me? _

Auron seemed to take her silence as a defeat. "I have arranged a companion for you while I am gone," he told her, taking his hand from her shoulder.

When she heard him say it, Yuna felt her heart grow heavier still. _Another Shelinda, _she thought tiredly. Another soul to hide her grief from. Another person to wear a mask for. _I'd rather be alone. _

"I have invited her to meet you tonight, so listen well. She was known to one of my companions in the Crusaders. A man I trust. I met her myself last week and judged her suitable. She will not live with us as Shelinda did; she has family of her own. But she has offered to stay with you in my absence." Her father adopted a small, cheerless smile. "I believe you will like her; she used to be a Guardian."

At the word _guardian_ Yuna's breath caught. A thousand questions rose in her throat, every one of them certain to arouse her father's suspicion.

"Wait here and you may decide for yourself," he told her.

Yuna could feel herself swaying on her feet, the ground shifting and undulating beneath her. _It couldn't possibly be._ She felt a pressure, the slightest push against the fragile shell she had been building for herself these past months. Something she had buried deep beneath those piles of books and boxes of distraction stirred, a wild creature waiting to break free.

When Auron returned, the black mage swept into the room behind him like an ancient queen; swanlike, strikingly beautiful… with irises the colour of a bloody sunset.

"You must be Yuna," she said, this woman she so dearly knew, gracefully offering a hand. "It's an honour to meet you."

* * *

_**The Troubadour**_

* * *

Deim had once heard it said that walking into Macalania for the first time was like stumbling into a dream. The forest's shining skyways stretched out like a frosted labyrinth before him, butterflies parting like clouds with every step. Some settled on his mop of grey hair or brushed the silk strings of the harp strapped to his back.

If Macalania was a dream, it was one that Deim had stumbled into most knowingly. The forest was the sacred pinnacle of a troubadour's road, just as Zanarkand had been for the Summoners of old. All bards at one time in their lives were drawn here by the promise of a perfect melody. Spira's most famous musicians had won their fame here - some had lived and died here too, like the blue bard and the Moonflower. The great composer Isken had written _Silver Night_ here for his lady love Linna. _"When both our hearts were young and bright,"_ Deim sang lustily, enjoying himself, _"we walked beneath the silver night!"_

In his younger days Deim had been reckless, singing baudy songs where he should not - songs to provoke, or songs to coax pretty faces into his bed. The latter had earned him a broken-toothed smile and the nickname _Crooked Deim_. Yet after Sin swept Kilika in the year before the Eternal Calm, he had turned his heart to the old songs. Songs that honoured his childhood, his homeland and the brothers he had lost. That was when he began composing too. _A Sunrise_ for sweet Kulukan. _Left So Long_ for his father. He even played his part in adding to the countless compositions made in High Summoner Braska's honour.

Now he came in search of new melodies. Macalania was the very birthplace of song, and it would soon be lost forever. After the Fall of Sin, it was said that the Aeon Shiva's hold over her frozen blue domain had shattered like the ice that once enveloped it. It was said that the forest was dying, that its once glorious temple had thawed and begun to crumble.

When Deim passed through the trees and came to the centre of the forest at last, he saw that it was worse than he imagined. The ruins of the sunken temple were now scarcely visible above the surface of Macalania's renowned spherewater lake; spiral staircases of pink marble rose from the watery depths and ended in mid-air. In the heart of the lake, a lonely statue of Shiva still stood defiant, a costly carving with long locks wrought in luxurious blue ceramic. Yet her stone face had begun to crumble, making rough grey tears across her cheeks. Lesser statues surrounded her, half-submerged with arms grasping for the sky like a drowning village.

It was a haunting sight, one that Deim could not drink in without the taste of grief. Yet there was something tragic and beautiful about decay. _Something a worthy bard could capture in a song, _he thought, not without mischief. Hebegan to make his way around the lake, humming Ispen's _Silver Night_ under his breath, songs and verses forming in his mind like waves and ripples.

When he reached the bank, it took him a moment to realise he was not alone.

"Magnificent, isn't she?"

Deim could not have been more stunned had the statue itself come to life and introduced itself. The great shadowy figure standing beside him, gazing out to the lake, was a Guado.

"Alas that her light has been snuffed from this world." Another voice joined, and out of the low hanging mists appeared a little fat man, dressed in long robes that made him look like a child's play tent.

When Deim saved himself from falling backwards into the water, he found the Guado smiling down at him kindly. "Do not be alarmed," he said calmly. "We mean you no harm."

"Times are hard for those such as us," added the fat man. "We simply came seeking shelter in these woods."

Deim bowed to them in Yevonite fashion, awestruck and speechless. He could not seem to stop staring at the Guado. The blue veins amidst those flawless features reminded him of a rhyme his mother had taught him when he was a child. _In blue veins magic reigns. _Indeed a veil of magic seemed to surround the stranger, right down to the two long, lacquered nails extending from each of his hands. Yet this smooth-cheeked creature was surely unlike any other of his race. _Could it be that he has human blood in him? _

The Guado laughed at the look on Deim's face, a deep rumble as though the earth itself laughed with him. "Come – join us! You must be weary. Where have you travelled from?"

The warmth of his laughter reassured Deim, and somehow he recovered his wits. The old troubadour allowed himself a grin. "Oh, _everywhere_, my Lord." The Guado could not be a Lord, of course, but he inspired the same reverence as the great Maesters once had, long ago. "I have travelled from the depths of the Baaj sea, from the great frozen peaks of Gagazet, from the scalding sands of Bikanel. I am Deim, a troubadour of Kilika, at your service." He made a great sweeping bow and flourished his cloak.

The Guado chuckled again. "Yes, you are indeed. Please, dine with us. There is plenty to share."

Deim accepted the offer with overflowing gratitude. The strangers' feast offerings were splendid, more suitable for a spread at a luxury Zanarkand hotel than a shadowy corner of decaying Macalania. To his delight, Deim recognized many delicacies rumoured to be favourites of the Guado; hot peppery bannock bread, berry clusters dripping with red juice, rare truffles from Guadosalem and a pitcher of rich Bevellian wine. Deim himself supplied three juicy papou fruit and a handful of Kilikan sweetcakes from his homeland.

_This morning I was at the Omega port,_ the singer thought to himself in wonder, _and tonight I am breaking bread with a Guado in a blue paradise._

As they conversed, Deim soon realized that the Guado was a creature of deep wisdom, a true scholar_._ To know that their kind would soon be gone from this world grieved the singer more than he could say.

There were those he knew who would kill a Guado on sight. Their species had fallen hard in the aftermath of the Eternal Calm after the exposure of their corrupt temple, the shame of the Maesters and the Unsent. But they were not the only species guilty of wrongdoing in those dark ages Sin wrought. _That time drew the darkness from every Spiran creature._ Looking at this noble face, exiled from the world, Deim knew that Spira would suffer a great loss.

After their feast, the troubadour sought his harp and sang a few pieces for the two strangers; his oldest and most beloved.

"You have indeed travelled wide," the Guado admired when he was done. "That much is plain from the richness of your art. I wonder… might you have seen my old friends upon your journeys?"

The fat man's eyebrows knit together. "I don't think we should get our hopes up, my friend."

The Guado only smiled charmingly at his companion. "It is said 'help unlooked-for often comes.' Perhaps this meeting was not by chance, Kinoc." He turned to Deim, eyes glittering. "Tell me, have you ever met a man by the name of Auron? A warrior, or perhaps a monk."

"Aye," answered Deim swiftly. "I knew an Auron. Auron of Besaid. He had a great scar across his eye, like so. He hired me and some fellows for his daugher's nameday feast. A sweet young thing, I do recall. Aye, and with a good and right love for the old songs, the best songs." He plucked a harp string.

"It can't have been the same man," said the man Kinoc dismissively. "Auron never had a daughter. He was sworn to chastity. And Yevon forbid he should ever go against his precious honour."

"Show him," suggested the Guado.

The fat put a hand inside his ample flowing robes and retrieved a Sphere. As he held it out to Deim, the image of a young warrior flickered to life, his long dark hair pulled back from his face. The man's whole stance suggested discipline and cool control, yet his eyes… there was something fierce and untamed lingering in their depths. They were the kind of eyes one did not forget easily.

"Aye, that's surely him, my Lords."

"Oh?" The fat man stroked his chin. "Well, well. There's an oddity, oh yes. Why would Auron choose to look after a young girl? The only thing he ever cared for was his Lord." He frowned at Deim. "Tell me, my friend, what did the girl look like?"

As it happened, Deim never forgot a pretty face. He grinned and told the strangers so. "And… now that I do remember it, my Lord, her eyes were most remarkable, just like her father's. 'Cept she had one green and the other blue. She had a drop of Al-Bhed blood in her, I'd swear by it. _Yuna_…" he recollected suddenly. "Aye, that was her name. Yuna, for the Lady Yunalesca."

The fat man laughed again, a little louder this time. He had an ugly laugh, the kind that had no humour in it. "So the rumours had truth after all! Only a self-righteous fool like Braska would name his daughter after the First Summoner."

When the two companions bent their heads together in hushed conversation, Deim found himself wishing he was somewhere else. Their whispers made an unsettling contrast with the soft lapping of the inky spherewater against the bank.

Eventually the Guado acknowledged their rudeness and returned his attention to Deim. "It is a handsome instrument you own," the creature complimented, gesturing elegantly to the harp. "The craftmanship is truly exquisite. Tell me, do you know 'The Lay of Anima'?"

At the sound of the Guado's pleasant, earthy voice, Deim relaxed again. "That I do, my Lord," he answered. "A sad tale." He remembered playing the very same song for the young girl at her nameday. _Yuna, a pretty name for a pretty face._

"Will you do me the honour of playing it for me?"

It was a rare request, and even the fat man looked troubled, laying a gentle hand on the Guado's arm. _Anima_ was a dark song. And yet, who was Deim to question the pleasures of such a being? He bowed low, crossed his legs and repositioned the harp before him.

He spun the song into the dark night, singing as sweetly as he ever had, his voice carrying over the water like a bell. In the absence of his fellows, the chime of Macalania's crystal formations were Deim's accompaniment and the boundless stars above gazed down on him in silent audience.

At the final verse, he lifted his gaze to the Guado, and that was his mistake.

He was used to tears after this song, but these tears were different; cruel and ragged and terrible. The Guado's face had paled to bonedust, and his eyes stared at Deim with a cold fury such as he had never known. Madness danced in those eyes.

He was so startled that he never saw the claws; the long, elegant nails reaching for him until they were wrapped firmly around his neck; and then the Guado was squeezing, choking him.

Deim raised his hands and tried to pry the claws off of him, but it was like trying to move an iron clamp.

Gasping, he reached out for the fat man's help, but he had been watching the whole time, his pale, round face the very picture of calm.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

* * *

SO. First up – if anyone is going to Nobuo Uematsu's **Distant Worlds** concert in **London** on **November 5****th**and would like to say hello (I'm going on my own!) – give me a PM and we can exchange details! I am a bubbly female in her early twenties so do NOT fear awkwardness! : ) It would be nice to meet with some other FF enthusiasts to squeal with before the show starts!

**Story Notes:**

Another transitional chapter, more or less. Don't kill me! The next chapter will definitely not be.

The final scene featured the singer Yuna spoke to all the way back in chapter 1. That scene was one of the first I ever wrote!

Don't expect too much intrigue from the subplot. It's only really there because I felt I had to build something around all the Tidus/Yuna smush. Most of you can probably predict exactly what will happen with it. I came up with it about six years ago, so it's pretty fanfic-cliche. Okay, I should probably stop rubbishing my own story.

The next chapter is nearly completed (ie. hopefully no more than a month away, less if I really work at it), and it may be the easiest chapter I've ever written for this story. Take that as you will!


	15. Chapter 14: Spherewater

"They slept wide-awake, thus sweetly lulled."

_Book Eight: Enchantments and Desolations, I: Full Light_

_**Les Misérables – Victor Hugo**_

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Spherewater**

* * *

_**Lulu**_

* * *

The instant that Lulu beheld the infamous father, she understood all the troubles that he had wrought upon Yuna's life.

That warrior's face, still handsome despite the scar, was not one which would happily welcome outsiders to the world he had so carefully crafted for his small family. Lulu herself had been subjected to his distrustful interrogation at their initial interview and witnessed the meticulous cautiousness with which he approached his affairs. Yet the steeled tenderness with which he looked at his daughter spoke volumes about the heart he concealed beneath that cool exterior. _He would come back from the dead for her, _she knew.

She had left them to make their goodbyes, retreating to the Sender's room when parent and child began to talk in hushed voices. It had been clear that Yuna was unhappy with her father's leavetaking and Lulu had no wish to intrude on that private struggle.

Though part of her knew of course that she already _had_ intruded. At their reunion the past evening, Yuna had managed to maintain the charade of their being unacquainted, though she must have been near to bursting with questions.

The entire search had passed so quickly that Lulu herself could barely keep up with events. In the first place, _Gippal_, of all people, had presented himself at her doorway having discovered a private Crusader advertisement seeking a companion for a young girl. Then it was a matter of his swiftly making sure Lulu was known to them as a former Guardian. Of course, they had not known for sure, only suspected… until the moment Lulu had walked through the Sender's doorway at last. Even then they had not shared the revelation with the boy it concerned the most. She had wanted the choice to be Yuna's alone.

In the southerner's absence, Lulu took the opportunity to scan the room she had sought refuge in, at the yellowing books and old trinkets decorating the dresser, like memories of a life that had already passed long ago. In a fairer world, it would have been filled with lover's gifts and rumpled sheets of rare, snatched sleep, stubs of Blitzball tickets and spheres flickering with friends' faces. Yet it was obvious that the Sender had quietly accepted her fate, barely pausing to consider the injustice life had dealt her - strange, lonely island soul that she was. _She would have wasted away here,_ thought Lulu, _expecting nothing,_ _just waiting for her heart to break._

When Yuna returned to the room, she scarcely let two seconds expire before throwing herself into Lulu's arms. Lulu gave what comfort she could and allowed herself a small smile over the young girl's shoulder. "You are not angry with me, then?" she asked.

Yuna unfastened herself from Lulu's embrace. "Angry?" she repeated.

"You had made your choice, had you not? Now I have made things more difficult for you." She watched Yuna's face carefully for a sign that her interference would be unwelcome. It would be too like her to answer the question with a kind lie and spare Lulu's own feelings. Yet to her credit, the girl recognised the subtlety of the question, and answered with the necessary thoughtfulness.

"Yes, in some ways," Yuna conceded quietly. "But, I will not pretend this is not the path I wanted. Truly… I _am_ glad to see you, Lulu."

She asked eagerly after the health and happiness of the others, and Lulu wasted no more time in keeping her from the truths she deserved; the united search for her, Gippal's role and her own, of course. Other details she glossed over – Tidus' state of near misery in her absence, for example – that was for the Blitzer alone to address.

"So what happens now?" asked the southerner. Suddenly she looked as vulnerable as Tidus had when he first returned from the empty garden, hungry for counsel.

"We find you a dress, of course." At Yuna's quizzical look, she elaborated. "It's the Annual Athlete's Ball tonight. The _Blitz Ball_, they call it. All the Zanarkand teams are obliged to attend."

She could see instantly that Yuna understood, and did not like the idea. "Lulu... it's been so long since we've seen each other. With all those _people_-"

"-The two of you have much to say to one another." There was no need to ask who Yuna had meant. "I realise that. You won't be paraded around as a spectacle to watch. I will find some quiet space for the two of you to say your piece. Though it may not be the garden of paradise you are accustomed to."

When Yuna blushed Lulu knew that her decision had been the right one. She would be the agent of their reunion, no more_. Provide the meeting ground, and the rest will follow naturally. _Without each other the two children were only faded versions of their former selves, as though at a breath of wind they would blow away like paper.

"Of course, Tidus would come here if we asked," Lulu said for Yuna's benefit, "but Wakka would never forgive me if I robbed him of his star player on the most important night of the year."

The truth was her husband would already have his hands full, performing many of Lulu's administrative duties for the Ball in her absence. But they had both agreed Yuna and Tidus were more important that a little additional labour. _And I will make it up to him when all this is over. _

"The most important night of the year?" Yuna quoted, evidently troubled by the thought. "Do you think this is the best time for us to meet? Won't he be… occupied?"

_Truly, this is a sad business,_ Lulu thought, lips pursing with displeasure. The girl's sense of self-worth would be the first thing Tidus would have to address. Thankfully, Lulu now trusted that he could heal the rift. The Blitzer had learned a harsh lesson these past months, and was not likely to burn his hand twice.

"It must be tonight," she explained to Yuna. "We do not know how soon your father will return. I promised him I would bring no one to the house, but I did not promise I would not take you from it." The mage hesitated. "Even so, I do not like deceiving him. But there will be no danger when I am by your side. I am a Guardian, which is why your father chose me."

Still Yuna hesitated, and for the first time Lulu found she was unable to read the words hiding behind those bi-coloured eyes. "Do you _want_ to see him, Yuna?" she asked.

The southern girl's head snapped up. Something like wounded defiance shone in her expression. _She thinks I am chiding her,_ Lulu realised.

"How can you ask me… _yes_ I want to see him. I've wanted to see him every day, every moment. Sometimes I turn a corner just wishing he was there, wishing…" Yuna faltered, and her former energy seemed to abandon her. "But… at the Sending, he felt so far away from me and I… I couldn't…" Her last words were wet and whispered.

Lulu's heart welled with pity such as she had not felt since the days of her Guardian's pilgrimage. It was all too familiar watching this girl, who seemed so strong with a Summoner's Staff in hand, become so fragile when it came to matters of the heart. The memory of the way Lady Ginnem's face crumpled when she talked of the family she left behind in Besaid came unbidden to the mage's mind.

Perhaps she _was_ meddling where she should not, but Lulu had lost her Summoner once. She would not stand by and watch this young Sender sacrifice the life she should have had.

Drawing Yuna into her arms, she soothed a hand down the Besaidian girl's hair. "Hush now," she admonished gently. "Even if what you say is the truth, this is not the way, Yuna. Building walls, locking up your heart. You will turn to hoarfrost that way. You must face these sorrows."

When Yuna's form stilled at last beneath her arms, Lulu pulled away to see one corner of the girl's mouth curled upwards in an odd, fragile little smile.

"What is it?" she asked, curious.

"I have an opera dress that may work."

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

Rikku met them with a vehicle _machina_ and a bone-crushing embrace. It was several moments before Yuna could breathe again, and several more before Rikku allowed her an opportunity to explain her situation.

"_D-West?_ Are you kidding?" she cried scandalously. "That's like, not even really _Zanarkand_! Oh _cuh uv ceh_, Brother, will you keep your eyes on the road?"

Yuna had made the mistake of waving to Rikku's sibling from the back seat; he waved back furiously with one hand operating the controls, causing the vehicle to come to a sudden jolting shock. When Lulu turned her black temper on the poor boy, their road towards the Blitz Ball soon smoothed.

Yuna spun her attention on Rikku. "I have something for you," she revealed somewhat gingerly. Dipping a hand into her silver clasp, she produced a string of carefully arranged jade-and-gold Besaidian beads. "The islander women used to make these for each other back home. I started making them for you before I left B-North. And, for some reason, I found myself finishing them here."

Rikku nestled the braid in the palm of her hands like it was a living thing, big green eyes huge in her pixie face. "Oh, Yunie! That's so _cool!_ I love it!" She shuffled forward as far as the transport would allow her and smoothed some hair away from the left side of her face, offering the beads back to Yuna. "Tie them on, tie them on!"

Yuna laughed. "Rikku, you don't have to wear them just for me, you know? I'm sure beads are not suitable for a ball."

"I don't care what people think," Rikku replied, brows furrowing. "You made them for me."

Touched, Yuna tied the beads with neat delicacy and leaned back to admire her work. "You look beautiful, Rikku." It was not only her golden hair; the Al-Bhed was wearing a little bronze dress that did not quite reach her knees. It was the most becoming thing Yuna had ever seen her friend wear, bringing her natural colourings gloriously to the fore.

A pleased flush spread across Rikku's nose. "You look gorgeous too, Yunie. Tidus will _flip_ when he sees you!"

Lulu had kindly complimented Yuna's opera dress with a pair of long dagged Sender's sleeves of gauzy silver, almost transparent and finished with deep blue ribbon. Yet no matter how lovely, a dress would not determine what Tidus would do, or _say_, when he saw her. The uncertainty must have been written on her face as plain as day; it did not go unnoticed by Rikku.

"Now you listen to me, Yunie," her companion told her firmly. "What Wakka said about you and Tidus and those Blitzer girls, that was a load of old chocobos. He's been as miserable as a _Fiend_ since you went missing! And he'd never admit it but-" - her voice dipped to a conspiring whisper - "his Blitz has been _super_ bad lately. He's crazy about you, Yunie. _Trust_ me."

When Yuna's hand found hers, Rikku squeezed it affectionately.

The Al Bhed was putting Yuna's hair up with a slender metal clasp when they finally arrived. She finished swiftly so they could both crane their necks at the window to catch a glimpse of the venue. They had stopped outside one of Zanarkand's most admired architectural feats - three conjoined towers affectionately nicknamed 'The Magnus Sisters' by locals. Yuna had enjoyed high tea there once with Shelinda, and marveled at the views overlooking the city and stadium.

Inside, the Towers were already writhing with guests. Swirls of people billowed past the three companions in all their finery, most lost or laughing with champagne glasses held dangerously above their heads. Not without a measure of awe, Yuna recognised more than a few Blitzball personalities and even some prominent Bevellian politicians that regularly featured in her father's newspapers.

When Lulu left them to relieve her husband of the duties he had shouldered in her absence, Rikku and Yuna clung close and attempted to push through the throng towards the ballroom, but it was like battling the tides.

It seemed fitting that Gippal would rescue them, just as he once had forever ago at the Zanarkand stadium. He seemed to take great pleasure in surprising she and Rikku at the foot of the grand staircase, looking almost princely in his formal ball attire.

He met Yuna's long awaited reappearance with his trademark lazy smile. "We thought you'd disappeared, my Lady," he drawled. "It's nice to see you back among the living."

Which, she reflected with amusement, was probably the kindest thing she could ever expect to hear from someone like Gippal. He offered her an arm, gentlemanly, then the other to Rikku, who grabbed it with giddy enthusiasm.

The Al-Bhed boy seemed singularly pleased with himself. "Now I just need another arm for Lu and I'll be the biggest pimp at the ball."

"Lulu would kill you if she heard you say that," Rikku pointed out.

"She definitely would," agreed Yuna.

"Hey, hey, ladies, ladies." Gippal patted their hands distractedly. "Let's not start the evening on a sour note, alright?"

Yuna and Rikku shared a glance beneath his eyeline, struggling not to giggle. As he escorted them into the grand ballroom, Yuna gripped Gippal's arm to keep her knees from buckling, knowing that beyond all the splendor and music and walking stars, something far more precious awaited her.

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

Lulu had done an amazing job. Every year she seemed to choose a venue for the Blitz Ball more impressive than the last. The Magnus Sister towers boasted wealth and sprawling grandeur with its glittering drapes, intricate chandeliers and a floor so polished that he had even caught his teammate Shaft using it as a mirror.

Tunes streamed unrelenting from a Djos'ian band as Tidus appraised a set of ice carvings of famous Blitzball sigils. _Lu and Wakka have really outdone themselves this time,_ he admitted. The whole place looked incredible, a night swathed in gold. So how come all _he_ could think about was some scruffy garden in B-North?

Tidus considered one of the champagne towers. He could drink himself stupid and atleast salvage _some_ enjoyment from the party. Or maybe just drink until he forgot about... but the image of Jecht at his worst flashed in Tidus' memory. What good would it do him to take up the bottle just as his old man had finished with it? _No, _he thought, somewhat ruefully_, that's not the way to deal._

When he saw Rikku bounding towards him through the crowds, he summoned a smile. He had no desire to plunge her into his sour mood.

"You look great, Rikku," he complimented.

The Al-Bhed girl smiled radiantly. It was the truth – infact she looked so feminine that it set Tidus' brotherly instincts at a strange unease. He couldn't help but feel a little sad at how quickly she was growing up.

"_You_ look miserable," she accused with her usual aplomb. "But not for long! We all got you a present. Come with me!"

He expected Rikku's 'present' to involve the whole gang, but when the Al Bhed girl pulled him forcefully behind the long glittering veils of the outer balcony, it was empty save for themselves and a girl in a blue dress, staring out into the illuminated cityscape.

The night air was cool, but it was difficult to notice when the view of Zanarkand was this spectacular. Even the sea was visible from this height. If he looked close enough, he thought he might even be able to pick out the houseboat.

The girl in the dress had not moved a muscle as they intruded on her quiet universe, cutting a pure and lonely figure as though she was waiting for a lost lover. Just as he was about to whisper to Rikku that they should leave her to her privacy, she turned to face them.

Tidus felt his world crumble beneath his feet.

"Yuna."

The coloured beads were not there, nor the shy smile he knew so well, but it was her, sure as sunrise. Still, it set his mind reeling, and for a feverish moment he couldn't make sense of the fact that she was _here_, of all places, standing in front of him like the memory of a painting come to life.

He had imagined this moment a thousand times. Pictured her face a thousand times. Rehearsed his lines, played out their conversation a thousand times. Yet now that he saw her, unharmed, dressed up like some noble from Bevelle; porcelain, perfect… no sadness in her eyes, only hesitancy. Just turned up at the Ball like it wasn't a big deal, like he hadn't spent the last two months desperate to find her.

Rikku looked sly as she took her leave of them, but for a moment Tidus only felt his relief give way to numbness. If she'd been fine all this time… in Zanarkand all this time? _What is this, a game to her? _

"Yuna," he said again, taking an unbidden step towards her. "Where have you _been?_ We've been looking everywhere for you. Were you in Besaid, or…?"

She shook her head. With her hair up like that she looked like another girl. It was all too _surreal_. For a moment Tidus began to wonder if he wasn't dreaming again. "Some months ago, we moved to the outskirts of the city," she said quietly, carefully. He noticed that she kept one hand resting lightly on the edge of the balcony, as though to keep herself standing. "Then, yesterday, Lulu came."

"So you _were_ inZanarkand," he confirmed, unable to disguise the hurt and confusion leaking into his voice. "Why didn't you leave a message for me? Gods Yuna, I was _worried_ about you. Did you think I wouldn't care?"

"I'm sorry," she said. Yet the apology sounded so _formal, _distant;an address to a stranger. Their two months of separation stood between them like a third person. "I don't want you to think I didn't appreciate what you did for me. Wakka said-"

He glared. "What? What did Wakka say?"

"Something about you always having your head turned by people," she told him, eyes lowering to the polished floor.

Even second hand, the comment stung. Tidus gave her a searching look. "You believe that?"

It was then that her shell of courtesy finally seemed to show the first crack. "I didn't _want_ to. For me, we were more than passing strangers. But after the Sending, you seemed so distant. It seemed as though you were disappointed in me, or even-" She hesitated. "It was easy to believe after that. I thought… maybe you didn't need me, but I'm all my father has. So when he needed my help, I thought it wouldn't matter if I… just faded away."

"What, and you thought I would be _relieved? _Because you're a Sender? Yuna…"

It was only then that he noticed the whiteness of her knuckles curled around the balcony. "I don't know. I didn't _know_. Rikku said you were sad when I left-"

"She told you I was _sad_? Yuna, I was going crazy without you. You're not just some girl to me, alright?"

The slight widening of those striking eyes told him that Yuna really had been in the dark about his feelings, just as Lulu and Rikku had always told him.

All at once the reality of their situation slammed into him. Here she was, the girl of his dreams – _literally_ – and what was he doing? _Scolding her, just like Lu and Rikku did to me. _And all it was doing was leaving the unwelcome taste of guilt in his mouth.

_And maybe I deserve it, _he told himself, _but she sure doesn't._ He looked at her then, truly looked at her, wearing that irrepressible heart-on-her-sleeve look that was so familiar it was almost painful. All at once the tension drained from him, like the aftermath of a rainstorm.

"Look," he told her gently, "what happened with the Sending, we're going to talk about it. But it was nothing to do with you, Yuna. I promise. You did scare me, but not in the way you think."

She shook her head, looking for a moment as lost as she once had in his dreams.

Finally he smiled, his heart filling with pity. "Yuna, _I'm_ sorry. I've been giving you a hard time. That isn't what I wanted to do. And you probably had an ordeal trying to get if Rikku's been talking your ear off."

Yuna laughed, even as her eyes shone with tears. "No, she calmed me down. I was so nervous."

"Come here," he said fondly, opening his arms. She went obediently like a child being called home, stepping into them as one might step through a doorway.

That was all it took to break the barriers between them. Suddenly they were transported back to the dark of her garden, or the highest seats in Zanarkand stadium, or the long sweet road home to B-North. Her cheek was soft and warm and wet against his as he breathed in every memory, pulling all the misty pieces of her back together.

"_I'm sorry,_" she whispered roughly.

"Don't say sorry. I'm the one who should be sorry." Suddenly he couldn't believe he was ever mad at her. "Gods, Yuna," he breathed into her hair, voice muffled. "I thought I was going to go crazy. No one could tell me where you'd gone."

"D-West," she answered him. "Father took us to D-West."

"All the way out there? Why? Is it because of me? Did he find out?"

"No," she told him, "I don't believe so. He was… scared."

"Scared?" Tidus pulled away from her at last, letting his hands slip to her upper arms. "Of what?"

"I'm not certain." She tried to smile. "Secrets."

Tidus knew her too well not to recognise the pain that tightened the corner of her eyes when she said it. He also knew this wasn't the time or the place to address it.

"Tell me later?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, looking so damn sad, so much like her old self that he would have said almost anything to make her smile again. Luckily, he knew just the tactic.

"You left someone else behind too, you know," he teased. "Furry, blue, pointy ears – ring any bells?"

"Oh!" Her eyes lit in recognition, and she clutched his shirt with an air of wildness around her. "Kimahri? Oh, please tell me..!"

Tidus took hold of her wrists and gently detached them without letting go. "I've got him."

A relieved cry rose from her throat. "You've had him all this time?"

"Hey, no worries." He squeezed her hands still captured in his. "Me and the little dude are getting along fine. Except he seems to think my blitzballs are scratching posts."

To make her laugh again was a joy he had almost forgotten. Tidus looked gratefully down at the pale, slight hands he held, the slender wrists disappearing into gauzy silver sleeves. He brushed a thumb across her knuckles then caught up her gaze.

"You look awesome, by the way."

It had the desired effect; the colour that rose in Yuna's cheeks was more beautiful than any sunset. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and spin her in a circle, but for the sake of overwhelming the poor Besaidian girl, he quelled the impulse.

"So, first thing's first, Yuna. How about you give me your Commsphere code?"

"But I don't have one."

"You don't have your own Commsphere?"

"Who would I call?" she asked, not without humour.

He ran a hand through his hair. _Damned if she's right._ He shouldn't be surprised, really. An old man like hers wouldn't likely take to the idea. "Well then, I'll buy you one."

"You don't need to do that."

"Yes!" He leapt forward and tickled her sides as she batted him away, laughing. "I do! You're the most elusive girl in Spira! I'd put a tracking collar on you if I could!" Tidus lifted his fist to his mouth like a microphone. "_Crrrsh_, confirmation, we're getting a signal on Yuna in B-North. _Crrsh_, could you please state her exact location? _Crrrsh_, just listen out for the worst busker on the road and she'll be throwing her gil in his hat. _Crrsh_, copy th—okay! Okay! I take it back!" He raised an eyebrow at her as she pushed her fists playfully against his chest. "Hey, you have a pretty strong right hook."

"Got that from my father," she smiled, and punched her open palm mock-threateningly. He'd never seen anything less menacing in his life. It was kind of adorable.

Suddenly he felt restless as though struck by Blitz fever, wanting to shout Yuna's return to the skies. Tidus knew just where to direct the energy. "I need to go and talk to Rikku," he explained. "Promise you won't disappear on me this time?"

"I promise."

"'Cause afterwards, we're going to party."

"Okay." _Gods, she has the sweetest smile._

"And to stop the disappearing act I'm going to make sure everyone has a mental mug shot of you by introducing you to everyone in the room."

"Okay."

"Even the people you already know."

"Go, go!" she laughed.

Rikku was waiting for him just outside the balcony, grinning from ear to ear. "You're so obvious when you flirt with her," she teased.

Tidus wrapped her in a huge Ronso hug, lifting her clear off her feet. "Rikku, did I ever tell you how awesome you are?"

"Hmm, not lately," she said airily as he set her down, trying and failing to look unaffected by the compliment. "But it's not me you have to thank, or Lulu either. We just helped dress her all pretty. Gippal was the one who found her for you."

That _did_ surprise him. "Gippal?"

"That's right." The Al-Bhed girl looked as proud as punch. "He got all his eyes-and-ears on it. He was the one who tracked her down."

Tidus sighed. _Guess I've got another apology to make tonight._ He suspected that this one might be even more complicated than the last. "Do me a favour," he told Rikku. "Go keep Yuna company while I talk to him."

Since the Blitz Ball provided an open bar, Gippal didn't take long to find. Baralai and Isaaru looked to be sharing a pitcher of Mi'hen'ii wine with him, but the New Yevon members disbanded when they saw Tidus coming.

That left him alone with Gippal and the awkwardness that inevitably infiltrated the air after their stretching absence from one another. Yet when Tidus finally opened his mouth in an attempt to express his gratitude, he found Gippal had pre-empted him.

"Don't," he snapped. "I didn't do it for you or her or Rikku or anything. I just did it 'cause I couldn't stand seeing your sissy face on the Blitz screens anymore. I wasn't about to let Zanarkand lose the whole tournament over some lost princess."

It was all a wasted effort - he should have known his best friend could see straight through him. "Thanks, anyway," Tidus told him knowingly.

Gippal looked faintly embarrassed at that. He never _had_ learned to take a compliment. "Just hurry up and make a move on her, will you?" the Al-Bhed said, trying his best to look irritable. "We're all sick to Sin of you two dancin' around each other."

For once, Tidus only found himself smiling at the jibe, unspeakably thankful that, as easily as that, they were friends again.

* * *

_**Yuna**_

* * *

She passed the remainder of the Ball in a joyous blur, bearing little resemblance to the whisper of a girl she had become these past scared and lonely months. The pull of the music was too tempting, wrapping around her like a whirlwind; it had been so long since she had truly danced. Wakka was the first to invite her to the floor, and Yuna welcomed the first chance they'd really had to talk since long before the Sending. She was so much smaller than the large Blitzer that her feet rarely touched the ground. Dancing with Tidus was even more fun; he wasn't afraid to get close, and he dipped her at all the wrong moments to make her giggle. Her cheeks aching with laugher and dizzy on champagne, Yuna threw her Sender's grace to the wind and let herself be spun around by him, dagged sleeves sailing behind her.

When her feet were too sore to support her any longer, Tidus half-carried, half-waltzed her to the edge of the room where she could rest alongside Lulu and Rikku and at last reclaim her breath. While Tidus went to fill her glass ("Just water this time!" she had protested. She felt lightheaded enough _without_ the champagne!), she sat with the two girls as the remaining dancers twirled and swayed before them like candlelit shadows.

She found herself almost afraid to tear her eyes from the Zanarkander boy incase she woke to find this night had all been a longing dream. Yet there he was still, waiting at the bar across the room, deep in conversation with Gippal. _They look like they're having fun, _she observed gratefully. _They must have a lot to catch up on._ Tidus glanced back at her often, as though to make sure she hadn't run off.

Presently Lulu sighed, considered her glass of wine. "Well, Yuna," she said, "we have missed you."

Rikku gave her a sideways hug to cement the point. Yuna slipped an arm around her and rested her head on top of Rikku's, brown hair and gold meeting and mingling.

Lulu glanced at them together. "You don't value yourself enough."

"I have never had friends like you before," Yuna whispered, overcome with emotion. Rikku held her tighter, her uncharacteristic silence saying all that needed to be said.

"Then, we'll forgive you on this occasion. Things have turned out for the best, I think."

Rikku could not be appealed upon to release Yuna until a comely Al Bhed boy boldly asked her to dance. _That_ made the young girl hop off her chair quickly enough, giggling as she joined the dancefloor, holding hands with her new partner. Lulu disappeared soon after, swept into a formal Bevellian-style court dance by her husband after some insistence from Yuna.

Yuna herself was not neglected for long.

"Would you care to dance, Yuna?"

She lifted her head to find Baralai casting a long shadow over her. She had barely spoken to the young Praetor beyond the odd Blitzball match and Dona's Sending. Ordinarily she might have felt shy, but Yuna had been walking among the Aeons ever since she had stepped into Tidus' arms; there was no fear left in her. She stretched out her legs like a child on a swing, showing him the scuffed toes of her ball slippers. "I've worn myself out I'm afraid," she said with an apologetic smile.

"Ah." He returned the smile and claimed the seat beside her instead. They fell into their natural routine of polite formality, Baralai expressing his pleasure at seeing her again after so long while Yuna queried him about the developments of New Yevon.

Half way through their conversation a thought occurred to her. "Does New Yevon keep old records of the Yevonite warriors?"

Baralai smiled courteously. "Is there any reason in particular that you ask?"

"No," she lied, thinking of her father. She had never imagined that Auron's secrets might be open to her in another way. The possibilities…

"Yes, we do have historical spheres of many of the warrior monks. Infact, there are some very complete records of their profiles and training in some of the grander temples - Zanarkand, Luca, Bevelle, for example."

The last placename was a great encouragement to Yuna. "And can _anyone_ see them?"

"That depends on the content. Some spheres are not yet suitable to be shared with Spira. There are many who find it difficult to keep up with the great change the Eternal Calm has wrought. New Yevon wishes to help those who feel lost in the winds of that change."

_No,_ thought Yuna, _feeling 'lost' plays no part in it. _The Praetor's speech held an appealing romanticism, to be sure, but… _in the end, it is for your group to decide which truths you want Spira to know._ Tidus had once told her New Yevon were bad news. She did not know if his reasons were the same as hers, but she thought she might agree with him after all. _My father too has decided my truths for me. It is not right. _

"Are you thinking of joining our ranks, Yuna?" the Praetor asked, misreading her thoughtfulness. "You would make a welcome addition."

Yuna ducked her head, embarrassed. "I'm honoured, but I'm not really in a position to-"

"-Your Sender duties, of course. How could I have forgotten? It is-"

"Sorry to interrupt."

Tidus was smiling down on them with a glass of water in one hand… yet Yuna could read the stiffness in his shoulders, almost resembling a Blitzball stance.

"I'm afraid I'll have to borrow her for a while," he told the Praetor. Something like a warning flickered behind his blue eyes.

Baralai rose to leave. "If you change your mind, Yuna, please don't hesitate to speak to me, or Isaaru." He bowed to her handsomely in Yevonite fashion, then did the same for Tidus.

When the Praetor was out of earshot, Tidus arched an eyebrow in her direction. "Tell me you're not-"

"I'm not," she reassured him swiftly. "We were just talking."

The Blitzer relaxed his shoulders. "I leave you alone for one second…" he teased, pressing the glass into her hands. "Finish up, Yuna. I persuaded Lulu to let me steal you for a couple hours."

Yuna sipped the cool water and regarded him suspiciously from over the rim of the glass. "What's all this about?"

"I want to show you something."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yuna had never forgotten the story Tidus told her about the sphere garden he had visited in his boyhood. How he had been bewitched by the waters, how his father had found him stretched out on the bank. Even months later his words had left cloudy, almost haunting impressions in her mind, indelible images of a place she had never seen. Until now.

"How strange to be visiting your garden at last," she said wistfully as they strolled an ornate pathway of Kilikan poplar trees.

"I've visited yours often enough." Tidus dug his hands into his pockets - he had forsaken his Ball attire for casual Blitzer shorts. As for herself, Yuna had not had the foresight to bring a change of clothing, but she had unpinned her hair and left the beautiful dagged sleeves in Lulu's care.

"And it's not really mine," he was explaining. "It's a private garden. We used to be residents here, before we got the houseboat."

They walked side by side, so close that their bare arms brushed tenderly and often. Everytime Yuna felt his skin graze her own it sent an arrow of electricity through her. Tidus' easy proximity heightened her senses to a painful degree, making her acutely aware of the fabric of her dress whispering coldly between her legs.

When they came to the lake, dappled in moonlight, Yuna fell instantly in love. A scattering of ancient-looking trees bowed over the water like mothers bending over a cradle, their boughs dripping with crystals and miniature blue blossoms. Each gnarled, twisted trunk seemed pregnant with an inner light. Yuna felt half a child, wanting to run and touch everything, sink her hands into the magic of this place.

"You like it, Yuna?" Tidus asked, watching her. There was something different in the way he said her name now, something soft and careful and far too perilous for her to consider very closely.

"It's _beautiful_…" she exclaimed as they walked towards the water. "They must have taken saplings from Macalania and nurtured them here in Zanarkand."

"How do you know that?" Macalania was legendary among Spirans, but few had ever been fortunate enough to see it.

"_Awake Shiva, your icy spring, your crystals clear, awake and sing! The roots around your light shall twine, in Macalania of thine,"_ Yuna recited. "Have you never heard that song?"

"It's not one of Lenne's, is it?" he joked.

Upon reaching the bank, Yuna knelt to comb her fingers through the steely water, fascinated by the texture, the density of it. She cupped some in her palm then poured it back into the lake. "It's spherewater," she realised with awe.

"Yeah, my old man comes here all the time to collect it. He has some obsession with recording stuff, recording the past."

All of a sudden Tidus planted himself down on the grass and began to unlace his sneakers. "Coming in?"

Yuna laughed. "Be serious!"

"You think I'm not?" Tidus grinned wickedly then threw his sneakers theatrically behind him in such a way that it would take a miracle to ever recover them. That only made Yuna laugh harder. Yet for all his tomfoolery the blitzer took a running jump and dived into the water as gracefully as some lithe sea creature.

He let her fret a bit before he finally came up for air, as she had already known he would.

Tidus treaded the water from the heart of the lake, half-submerged. "Take your shoes off!" he called to her. "Maybe you could walk along the water, show me?"

Yuna smiled at him fondly. "I can't just do it for kicks, you know." Yet she knelt to take the slippers off all the same. She placed them together carefully side by side, as carefully as a little girl had once arranged a flower on a gravestone. Then, turning, she stood barefoot on the bank for a lingering moment, a little vulnerable.

_Here I am again, _she thought. Just as the first time she had climbed the garden gates, Yuna knew that to go forwards now would be a choice. What Lulu had said to her at their meeting in D-West had stayed with her. _You had made your choice. Now I have made things more difficult for you._ The mage had known as well as she that there would be no turning back after she had taken that first step. Yuna knew now with a crystal certainty that this boy would be a part of her future. In what way was still unclear, yet she hoped. She dreamed.

When Tidus saw her hesitating at the water's edge, he returned for her, wordlessly offering his hand.

Cautiously she went, his fingers folding easily around hers. The spherewater parted against her ankles like silk, Tidus drawing her silently deeper until the folds of her opera dress rippled and grew heavy, trailing behind her like the tail plumage of some winged aeon. Downwards and deep they waded until Yuna was almost floating, her toes barely touching the shifting foundation of the lake.

When Tidus saw that she had reached a comfortable depth, he released her unexpectedly and pushed himself into the deeper water with an easy smile. Strangely, it reminded her of their very first meeting, so long ago in the alleys of A-East. _He found me and led me from the labyrinth, _she remembered. And he had released her and smiled at her in the very same way. _How strange and foreign he seemed back then._

Her eyes followed him in captivation as he pulled through the water, his quicksilver motions like liquid made flesh. She realised that the difference between what he was to her then and what he meant to her now was as vast as that between light and dark.

Yuna dipped low in the water and tilted her head back just enough to wet the ends of her hair, drinking in the wonder around her. The stars were white and soft and sputtering like dying pyreflies. The silence was so exquisite that it startled her when he began to talk again.

"About the Sending-"

"Please, you don't have to say anything," Yuna interrupted. The night had been so lovely, part of her did not want to revisit the event that might have ended it all. But Tidus was insistent.

"Yes, I do," he said. "I was angry at myself. I wondered, what was it, that when you smiled sometimes, it was with sad eyes. I thought it was your old man. Or maybe your Mom, since you never told me…"

"She died when I was very young," Yuna finished for him.

When she said that, Tidus stopped swimming in mid-stroke. He made his way to the shallower waters when she waited, watching him.

He met her eyes with such quiet force that it sent a tremor through her heart. "When I realised it was the Sending that was hurting you so much… I guess I wasn't ready for that. I didn't know how to help you, Yuna."

_Then, you were never afraid of me_, she wanted to rejoice_. You only wanted to protect me._ She felt foolish for ever having read him so poorly.

"I just… I still don't even understand why you have to do it. I mean…" He shrugged helplessly. "You're… seventeen."

She wasn't sure what to tell him. "You know… ever since I was young, I never questioned it. But now that you ask me why…" Her eyebrows drew together. "I'm not sure I know myself. Everyone except my father said it was a dark thing for a girl my age. But I always knew I would take up the Staff, always. Belgemine said it was in my blood."

"What can I do?" Tidus asked desperately. "What can I do to make it better?"

For a moment Yuna could only stare at him uncomprehendingly. "B-but… you already make it better." She swallowed hard, trembling. "You make my life happier." The last word was choked.

When Tidus did not answer, she did not know what to wish for; to take the words back. Afraid, she closed her eyes against the hammering of her heart, against who she was, wishing she could simply dissolve into the lake. The confession had stolen the last remnants of her courage._ So then,_ she thought,_ it's done._

When she opened her eyes, Tidus was standing a mere featherbreath away from her. At first she was dismayed and frightened, feeling with a sudden intensity the promise of _change_ that thickened the air around them, like the silence before snow. But he was smiling at her, eyes painfully blue.

"Yuna," he said, soft and serious, "I'm really glad you came to Zanarkand."

His voice soaked into her skin and into her bones. In a loving gesture, he tucked a few tendrils of dark hair behind her ear and closed the remaining distance between them.

When he kissed her, the world softened. At first the sensations were as fleeting as pyreflies – his thumb grazing her cheekbone, his knuckle sweeping the flesh of her throat. Then his hand on her shoulderblade was coaxing her, guiding her, and past the wild thrumming of her pulse Yuna clung to him like he was the only thing holding her to Spira.

His skin was warm gold beneath her palms; she imagined summer running through his veins. Breathlessly their mouths met and tangled, her jaw lifting to meet him like following the swells of the sea, her fingers stealing deep into his golden hair.

When their momentum carried them deep enough that Yuna lost her footing, Tidus fisted his hand almost bruisingly hard around the fabric at the small of her back and held her there afloat.

Cocooned in his arms, the last of Yuna's fears dissolved as effortlessly as shadows. She kissed him back deep and demanding, surrendering at last every aching drop of her being that she had ever held back from him, an hibiscus unribboning in the dark of a walled garden.

* * *

_**Tidus**_

* * *

Some time later they lay stretched side by side on the grassy bank, heads close. The Zanarkand evening gently deepened around them, bathing them both in its safe powdery darkness.

Tidus found he could barely tear his eyes away from her, not since that moment when she had stared up at him as though she was drowning and he hadn't waited a second longer to be the one to save her, to breathe life back into her. He knew that the time they had lost was a scar that was still healing. Despite that, he couldn't help but feel that they had gained something from their separation too.

"I feel older since I last saw you," he told her. "Like I was some little kid before. Even though nothing seemed to happen while you were gone. Everything just… passed me by. But, at the same time, it changed everything. I feel like I can take care of you better now."

A little smile blossomed on her mouth. "I feel it too. I think maybe that's part of it," she mused of love. "It's like a sort of... new consciousness of things, isn't it? It weighs on you a little. Not like _duty_ but..." She paused in thoughtful silence. "Like… when you throw a fresh sheet over a mattress and it sort of floats down-" She performed the motion with a precious little gesture, letting her hand flutter from the air to rest upon his chest. "_That_ kind of weight. That's the part that makes you feel older, I think."

He took the hand and kissed it, indescribably happy just to listen to the music of her voice again. That peaceful feeling was returning to him at last, that quiet truthfulness that Yuna carried so effortlessly. It almost made him want to laugh. _Give me a garden, give me Yuna._ Could happiness be so simple?

"There's another part to it, too," she was saying. "I understand why they call it _falling_. It's like the feeling of spherewater, isn't it? Or the song from the music box_._" Suddenly her laughter echoed silvery around the private garden. "Oh, I don't know what I mean."

"I know what you mean." The words he had once given to her their first night together at the Zanarkand stadium came to him all too naturally. "It's like being asleep and awake at the same time."

When she smiled, he knew that she remembered too. "So then, it's like Blitzball?" she teased.

"Sure. With Blitz, always keep your eye on the ball, or it disappears fast. With Yuna, always keep your eye on your girl, or she disappears fast." He glanced at her mischievously from the corner of his eye.

"Excuse me, are you comparing me to a Blitzball?"

"Hey, why not?" he said, shifting languorously on the bank as his eyelids slid closed. "I'll tuck you under my arm and carry you around with me."

"And sign your name on my face?"

"That's a great idea," he said without opening his eyes. "Then everyone will know who you belong to. Maybe it'll stop other guys from flirting with you."

She laughed. "No one does that with me."

Tidus sighed noisily. "Yuna, half the _population_ Rikku and I talked to remembered you. Especially that jackass at the B-North library – by the way, next time you go there, I'm going with you for _sure_. And Rikku's brother, gods. In his head the two of you are probably married with _kids_ already. Don't even get me _started_ on Baralai." He glanced below his shoulder to find her gaping at him. "The fact that you don't realise any of this just makes the whole thing scarier. No, we are definitely doing the signature thing."

They continued to play with the idea until naturally they fell onto other matters. From time to time he would move his arm a little or she would walk her fingers along his chest playfully. They talked and shifted as spontaneously as passing clouds in summer skies, plucking conversations from the air, so insensible with love they hardly knew silence from speech.

"I came into Zanarkand once," Yuna said at one moment.

"_What?_ When? Where?"

"Three weeks or so ago. Up the D-West path."

"You were at Valefor's Crossing?" Tidus cursed. "That's only two blocks from the houseboat. If I'd know you were there, I would have run like lightening to get to you."

"I'd like to see it."

For a moment he didn't understand. "Huh? You mean V's Crossing?"

"The houseboat. Would you take me to your home one day?"

Tidus pushed himself up on one elbow to look at her. Some of her hair had fallen over her eyes, and a small smile played on her lips like a secret waiting to be released. He traced the secret with a fingertip, traced it down to the hollow of her shoulder and the steady heartbeat just beneath her collarbone. Then he bent his face to hers, and kissed her until she was sure of his answer.

When he finally pulled away, Yuna's gaze was slightly unfocused beneath her dark lashes, as though she was half dreaming. In the darkness her eyes were like jewels.

"When did you know?" she whispered, her voice sounding thick and charmed.

He considered her, tracing the curve of her cheekbone with his thumb. "When I went to the garden," he told her truthfully. "And you weren't in it. When did you know, Yuna?"

"I don't think I can name a moment," she answered. "Every day you visited me I was so happy, you know? I would wait all day just to see you."

"You liked me that long?"

This time her smile hid nothing. Tidus bent to press a kiss into her dark shining hair. "I'm sorry," he told her.

"What are you sorry for?"

"I guess I was a late bloomer."

She laughed, touching her necklace fondly. "I keep hibiscus, remember? I'm used to late flora."

_Gods, Yuna. What did I do to deserve you? _When Tidus lay back down on the grass, she curled up against him like a child seeking warmth, toes brushing his ankles. He settled her more closely against his chest and watched the sky glittering darkly, questions turning in his heart.

"I'll be there, Yuna," he said after a long silence.

"Hmm?" she murmured, almost sleeping.

"I'll be there to cheer you up, okay? Every Sending, every Dance. Every death. Everytime you get sad, I'll make you smile."

Maybe it wasn't much. But when Yuna wordlessly tightened her hand around his, he thought that even if that was all he could do for her, it would be enough. He held her just as tightly, and swore to himself that the next time those iron gates threatened to rise up between them, he would be ready.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

* * *

So originally I wrote their reunion as this great big crashing-into-each-other hollywood hug thing. Years later I found myself writing something more complicated. Does that mean I've gotten more cynical as I've gotten older? : /

Part of me feels like it was a cop-out using more or less the same 'love scene' scenario as the game. I tried a couple of different things but kept returning to the 'lake' setting; to this day I adore that scene in the game and really wanted to try my own version.

Next chapter – reactions.

To **babygirlalexis** – since I couldn't reply to your review via your account, I wanted to thank you for your kind words – and more than that, I am so happy and grateful to hear you say that you have been with me almost since the beginning. Sometimes I wonder how many readers I have lost over the years and it's really heartening to know that I haven't put everyone off yet!

If I can quote Yuna here - stay with me, until the end, please! (I promise it won't be ten years XD)


End file.
